


Young Trouble

by my_unlikely_hero



Series: Double Trouble [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Attempted Suicide, Do you see where I’m going with this?, For reasons, Juvie! AU, M/M, No Major Character Death, Rape of a minor- not graphic, Suicide Attempt, Will add more tags and change rating as things progress, and tbh he’s barely mentioned in this one, but nobody fucking cares about him, holy shit, i should not be allowed to type, im a fucking monster, just mentioned, just riko, mute!Neil, omg something ORIGINAL, someone take these boys from before I break them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-16 06:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero
Summary: When Mary abandons Neil across the country, Neil and Andrew still find each other.It’s a bumpy ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding more tags and warnings as the story progresses! But if you’ve read my things, you can probably guess where this is going. It’s basically inevitable. I’m the worst. 
> 
> I’ve had this baby in my docs for.... more than a year. Literally. And here it is :) 
> 
> I hope you like it :)

Of course Andrew knows about Westshore’s newest delinquent. Andrew is usually pretty well informed on the goings on of this place, thanks to Will, who is always oh so eager to please Andrew. So of course Andrew knows about the kid before he sees him. 

His name is Neil, and he's a Doe like Andrew. The kid can't speak-- at all. Period. He isn't just _shy_ or _quiet_ he's mute. Andrew has seen him from a distance during their few shared times and knows the kid carries around a notebook and pencil to communicate. He doodles in the margins until someone notices and yells at him for not paying attention. He's already been threatened with medication, as if boredom is something to fix and medicate. 

But Neil hardly affects Andrew in any way, and so long as it stays that way, it's unlikely that Andrew will bother to pay attention to him. Andrew continues to pay no notice to the short redhead for nearly two weeks before one of the councilors gets the bright idea to let Neil onto the Exy court. It's hard to ignore him when he keeps scoring shots into Andrew's goal and then smiling as if to taunt him. Neil plays like he can outrun whatever demons had brought him here.

Andrews team beats Neil's by a smaller margin than usual. Andrew catches the kids eye as the others filter out the door. He gives Neil a quick salute. 

“Better luck next time.” 

Neil scowls. 

 

*****

 

Will doesn't mind that Andrew bites more than he kisses, or that Andrew will sometimes pull away to leave him hanging. He doesn't mind keeping his hands to himself and letting Andrew boss him around. In fact, Andrew thinks the kinky little shit gets off on it. 

Andrew doesn’t pull back today, he wants to feel something other than the ridiculous want for the troublesome redhead. He doesn’t bother teasing as he pulls Will’s cock from his jeans. They have a limited time, after all. He’s uncircumcised and untrimmed, and he hardens quickly under Andrew’s attention. Teens are hormonal and desperate and it usually works in Andrew’s favor, now that he’s out of foster care. Will keeps his hands on his head, not touching Andrew even when he cums. He has to cover his mouth with his hand so he doesn’t make a noise to draw attention. 

Andrew rises from his knees and sends Will away so he can finish himself off. It's better than in the group showers, or the room he shares with James. Yeah, no. 

But James only has three weeks until he can go home. And then Andrew will probably be stuck with some insufferable homophobe who snores. Andrew would smother them in their sleep… but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

Andrew’s thoughts wander to Neil while he jerks himself. He’s impossibly pretty- bright blue eyes and red hair. Freckles. And maybe just the right about of fucked up to not run away screaming. He wonders what Neil is in for. Most newcomers brag about why they're here. Will lights things in fire. James beat the shit out of his mom's asshole boyfriend. There are drug dealers and thieves and carjackers aplenty. But Neil had been grouped in with the violent gang members and armed muggers. He had done had earned him a spot with some of the most dangerous teens. Andrew doesn't trust the kid, pretty face or not. 

 

*****

 

Neil has felt the safest in Westshore than he had expected he ever would— there is a comfort in being behind locked bars, secluded away from his father and his people. It’s like he’s camouflaged amongst the hundreds of other teens here. 

If Neil lets himself think rationally, he can imagine that’s why his mother left him in California. So he could have anonymity while she drew the fire elsewhere, wherever she may be. Neil hopes she’s safe. He doesn’t blame her for what happened after she left— how could he, when she had been gone? No, that had all been Neil’s own stupidity. 

He should have hid better. He should have found a safer place to sleep, somewhere the police wouldn’t have come snooping around; but the neighborhood had been all but abandoned and Neil had thought himself safe there. 

When they arrested him— vagrancy or breaking and entering or trespassing, it doesn’t matter— his mother’s words rang in his ear. _Don’t say another word. Do you hear me, Abram? You don’t tell anyone < _anything. _You keep your mouth shut and you don’t tell anyone anything. Let them think you’re deaf or mute or dumb, I don’t care. But you don’t speak, not to any body._ __

__So Neil hadn’t said anything. He let the Oakland PD drag him to the station in cuffs and sat in silence until they gave up and took him to the hospital. By the time a checkup had been done for Neil’s old bruises and scars, CPS had arrived._ _

__Once again, Neil had refused to speak to the agent assigned to him. He didn’t even shake his head yes or no when asked if he knew about his parents or where his home is. He was fourteen (they guessed),_ _

__They guessed him to be older than he really is. He doesn’t know why- he knows that he looked younger; men had told him as much. _You look so young and pretty. Come here._ _ _

__He doesn’t know why they aged him up, but it worked in his favor now. Now he’s old enough that they sent him to juvie for murder. He’s old enough to be locked away safely. He was also old enough that the worker know that he should have known where he lived. But in the end the woman had relented and Neil had been taken into a youth group home. It wasn’t quite foster care, not quite a detention facility. They called him Neil Doe._ _

__Neil had stayed two months there, with more kids around his age. Neil had been picked on a lot but he was good at hiding if it got bad and he wanted to be left alone. He could climb up and hide on the roof when someone decided they wanted to beat Neil to a pulp. Then he had been shipped off with a bag full of clothes (more than he had ever had before, and those ones had fit properly) to live with Carol and Eddy Danvers. That had lasted all of three days before his silence has unnerved them and he had been sent back._ _

__The second family had been Diane and Sean Bailey. They had lasted longer. Sean had waited two weeks before he tried to take his temper out on Neil. Another few months had passed before Neil had what he could tolerate and then he had ran. It wasn’t like he could call his social worker, and he didn’t have a cell phone to text with. He hadn’t made it a day before the police caught him one town over trying to hitchhike to where he had left his duffle bag._ _

__The third family, and the last, had taken Neil in for nearly a year. Chelsea Tippet liked that Neil was so quiet— _so polite_ , she said. Her husband Michael liked that Neil was pretty. It had been a long year, and when he ran away the police caught him only days later, still bruised from Michael. They had took him to the detention facility after that, on a manslaughter charge Neil hadn’t argued. _ _

__Despite what happened with Michael, Neil was a runner, not a fighter. But he was also rude and short tempered. From experience, he tended to put the worst into people. Which is why when Clark calls him a faggot, Neil flipped him off. Apparently Clark has a hair-trigger temper._ _

__Clark punches him in the stomach, his ribs still sore from Michael. The pain knocks the breath out of him, but he raises a hand to block the next blow. Baltimore has taught Neil how to cringe and protect himself on instinct. (It has been his mother that had given Neil his smart mouth, even when he didn’t say a word.)_ _

__Clark had grabbed Neil’s pencil from where it had fallen on Neil’s bunk. He brings it down, point first, into Neil’s outstretched palm. The end breaks off in Clark’s fist, leaving the first half of the pencil piercing Neil’s palm._ _

__He steps away, either to put distance between them now that the fight was over, or to admire his handy work. There’s blood dripping onto the floor, and nobody around. They’re locked for the room for the night, and it’s not like Neil can call for help._ _

__“Go on,” Clark grins. “Call for help. Go ahead.”_ _

__Neil bites his lip and pulls at the pencil stub. It’s slick with blood and his fingers keep slipping. He can’t keep his grip. Clark watches him, laughing._ _

__Maybe he can’t scream, but if he raises enough noise a guard will come- right? Neil kicks at the door, the pain in his hand making his eyes water and streak down his cheeks. Of course the guards ignore him. This is juvie. They probably think some punk is getting his making noise for the fun of it. But Neil keeps kicking until he feels faint and has to sit down._ _

__It barely registers when Clark says something that sounds garbled and distant, and starts yelling for a guard._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t do this without Wingsofwaxx, headbangingnightrunner, and fubukiatsuya. fubukiatsuya Has been here since I first started plotting this, and wings and runner are forever giving me prompts and advice. You’re all amazing and I appreciate you so much :)

Neil wakes up in medical. His hand is wrapped in a thick layer of gauze and the pencil is gone. He feels tape around his ribs again. He has an IV in one arm. He doesn’t remember how he got here, and he waits for an hour before a nurse comes to check on him. 

“Hey, sweety! Looks like you’re up. How are you feeling?” 

Hungry. Thirsty. In pain. But this was nothing new to him by now, and certainly not the worst he’s felt. As if he had a ways to communicate, even if he had a complaint. But the people here kept trying to push Neil to speak- it had taken a full week to get the notebook, and only then when his teachers had complained. So he gives the nurse a thumbs up. If he’s lucky, they’ll take pity on him anyway and keep him away from the general population for a few days before sending him back. 

The nurse rolls their eyes. “Yeah, okay. You had a pencil stabbed through your hand. Completely though. You’re lucky it didn’t hit anything to cripple your hand, but it looks like you’ll heal fine. Eventually, anyway. For now, here.” 

They shake a few pills out of the bottle and hand them to Neil. He takes them dry before the nurse hands him a cup of water but he drinks it to quench his parched mouth. His tongue feels sticky and dehydrated. 

They’re pain pills, and they don’t take long to kick in. They aren’t strong enough to make him high but his hand has gone numb, which is nice. 

They bring him dinner. Apparently he had slept through breakfast, and had just missed lunch. Neil doesn’t mind. He’s hungry, but not starving. He knows he will be fed eventually and it helps quell his growling stomach. 

Nurse Alex sits beside him while Neil eats. He tries not to stuff his face like he’s starving so he can hear them talk. 

“I talked to Doctor Hadley, and the doc talked to the higher ups. Because of your condition, you’re an easy target and we’re worried about you going back to E group. We brought up how you nearly bled to death because you couldn’t call for help. You probably would have, if your roommate hadn’t called for a guard.” 

Neil scoffs. He hasn’t survived his father and Lola, a bullet wound, and a fuck ton of road rash to be killed by some asshole with a pencil. 

“The big wigs are considering a transfer for you, but it’s a tough decision. I mean, you were charged with murder but you didn't cause Clark any significant harm. So far you’ve been a model teen, that’s definitely a point in your favor.” 

Neil nods. He hadn’t had time to defend himself, Clark had gone straight for a weapon. 

Dinner was macaroni and cheese with hot dogs and broccoli. He doesn’t even bother with the jello, it tastes like melted strawberry flavored sugar. He wishes he had an apple or something, and he can’t even ask for anything. They haven’t given him his notebook back. Though, that may be because his hand is all wrapped up and useless. 

It takes a few days for anyone to give Neil any answers, but Nurse Alex doesn’t mind taking care of him. They bring him some fruits when Neil doesn’t eat the vegetables, and gives him pain meds when his hand hurts. And they have an uncanny ability to tell when Neil’s hand starts becoming painful. 

“Good news!” They come in with a big smile. “They’re transferring you to C group. They’re not so bad. I get one or two of them in sometimes, but mostly for sickness or an ice pack. Nothing like E, I promise. And even if you get hurt, you get to come see me again!” 

They wink at him, teasing. Neil doesn’t quite understand why they would want him to come back, if it meant he was hurt. But he was being transferred to a less dangerous group, so Neil would have to see. 

 

******Andrew******

Transfers don’t happen often. Usually the teens get more violent the longer they’re here, and they’re moved up into groups that have more restrictive measures. But occasionally they have an unmediated kid, who gets diagnosed with bipolar disorder or something and calms down once they’re properly medicated. Andrew wonders if that was applicable to Neil, as well. They had paired him with Andrew, predictably. Doe and Doe, how amusing the admins thought they were. 

“Check it out, Chase, it’s a family reunion! Doe and Doe, ain’t that nice?”

It’s Chase Trujillo and Calvin Smith. Andrew ignores them, continuing his workout. 

“You act just alike, too! Kid hasn't said anything since he got here, rude little shit.” 

“I heard he was deaf or somethin’, he can't talk. Freak.” Chase adds, smirking like he thinks he’s so clever. 

“Mute, dumbass.” Andrew scoffs at them. 

“What?” Chase looks entirely derailed. 

“He’s mute.” 

“As if I care, smartass.” Chase sneers like it will offend Andrew in some way. It doesn't. 

“Fuck off.” 

“That’s real sweet, you sticking up for the kid.” 

Andrew ignores him. They’re in the weight room, and he has to add more weights to the machine. He’s up to 200 pounds now. He could weight lift Neil, who is running beside him on the treadmill. They won’t let the idiot play Exy until his hand heals, and Neil isn’t very happy about it. He’s stuck running the tread off the equipment. 

“We’re just having fun. Ease up, Doe.” 

Trujillo and Smith pick equipment on either side of Andrew and Neil. 

“At least it’s your left hand, so you can still jack off,” Smith grins. 

Neil’s gait stutters. It’s actually Neil’s right hand that’s bandaged, but that isn’t what has him tongue tied. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sexual innuendos. They all make him queasy, like there’s slime on him. 

Andrew looks over to see the kids face suddenly pallid. Calvin slams the emergency stop on the machine and Neil lurches forward but doesn’t fall. He’s staring warily at Smith, waiting for him to move. Neil leans toward defense— someone needs to teach the kid offense. Away from the Exy court, that is. 

“You’re all fucking idiots.” Andrews words are as flat and empty sounding as he feels inside, but he means it. By now, everyone knows that Andrew means what he says, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone. 

Smith at least has the sense to take the warning and leave. Trujillo is eyeing Andrew up like he can’t wait for a fight. But the weight room is hardly the place for it. Andrew waits for Trujillo to make a move while Neil, behind him, looks ready to run. Useless rabbit. 

“You better keep that big mouth shut, Andrew.” Trujillo says as he leaves. Andrew waves him off as he returns to the weight machine. 

Neil wipes his bangs up off his face and Andrew catches a glimpse of those bright blue eyes. Andrew hates him. He just knows this kid of going to be trouble. 

Group C showers once a day, after gym. There are shampoo and soap pumps on the wall between shower heads and today Andrew waits at the back of the line. This is normal— he’s always the last to shower, Gartner complains about having to wait on him daily. Today Neil is waiting beside him, arms wrapped around himself and eyeing the doorway with worry. Their turn is up and Andrew chooses a corner stall to use. At least the center directors had enough sense to put in stalls for the showers. Or perhaps that was at the insistence of some do-gooder psychologist. 

It’s a Sunday, so there are no classes. The weight room closed at 7, before the showers. But the library is open until nine, and lights out is ten. Neil doesn’t follow Andrew to the library and after that, lights out divides them into separate room. Andrew reads Ender’s Game until lights out. 

*****

Neil's paper and marker-- downgraded from a sharp pencil, Andrew notes, are kept beneath his elbow on the table. The kid is hunched over his plate of terrible spaghetti, eating as if someone is going to take it away. He looks like he needs it-- Neil's face is pinched and skinny, the uniform sleeve loose around his wrists. The kid could stand to gain a few pounds.There are new bruises in dark hues of blue centering on Neil's face, though his long sleeves might be covering more damage. One of his hands is freshly bandaged-- Andrew wonders if that's where the pencil had gone. 

Neil struggles to open his bottle of water with his one good hand and his knees. It's mildly entertaining to watch, until it becomes pathetic and boring and Andrew snatches it from the kids hand-- who flinches away. Some would take that as a challenge to torment him but Andrew couldn’t care less. Everyone has their issues, and Andrew’s just being helpful for once. Maybe it will earn him some good karma and a privilege or two in this shithole. 

So he unscrews the cap, lets it drop to the ground and sets the open bottle beside Neil. The kid looks at him warily before he nods his thanks and takes it. Lunch ends and then they're being shepherded away by some adult who obviously would rather be elsewhere. 

All but one of the current supervisors leave for what must be a cigarette break. Predictably, Calvin and Chase take this moment to harass Neil and Andrew. 

“Hey Neil. I’ll let you suck my dick if I can have your brownie.” 

It’s a terrible brownie anyway but a lame and predictably homophonic nonetheless. Neil’s reaction bothers Andrew more than some bullies pathetic vocabulary. But Neil’s face turns white and his shoulders draw up around his ears. Andrew sees his eyes darting, counting the exits and the guards and supervisors like he’s counting the odds of escaping. His fingers come up to tangle in his own hair and pull in some sort of weak grounding attempt. 

“You look like a fag,” one of them sneers. 

“Clark says you scream in your sleep, so you’re either fucked up in the head or you’re a liar. Either way, we know you can speak. Why don’t you answer us?” 

Their logic makes little sense. Neil just stares up at Calvin and the others. Slowly he lifts his tray and upends the potato soup lunch all over Calvins shoes. 

Andrew would laugh if it weren't pure stupidity on Neil's part. As it is, Calvin drags Neil up the wall by his shirt collar. Neil bares his teeth in a silent snarl and then kicks his foot out into the older boys knee. Calvin drops him and Neil bolts out of the room before even the guard can catch him. 

Neil spends a day in what the adults call seclusion, which is really just a nicer word for solitary. It's not like they can really ground the kid. The day passes, unaffected by Neil’s absence. When he returns, Neil looks fairly unaffected. There are a few sleepless bags under his eyes and one new bruise on his cheek. This kid is a trouble magnet— there hasn’t a day gone by yet that the kid wasn’t beat up for one reason or another; yet Neil took it like a kid who was used to being beat on— in silence. One of the adults must have gotten short tempered with him. If it had been a kid there would be more bruises. Andrew knows all about heavy handed adults and wonders how infuriating someone can be if they can't speak. 

*****

Andrew roommate moved out yesterday and Andrew has the room to himself for the first time since he left Cass’. The privacy is a luxury that Andrew revels in. He despises having to sleep with another man in the room. For once in his life Andrew is fairly safe, sleeping in a real bed in his own room behind a locked door; the guards and staff may be a little heavy handed but they haven’t tried sneaking into Andrew's room while he slept. He’s getting three square meals a day, and though they aren’t the best the cooks are better than Mrs Riley who had only ever made the world’s most bland scrambled eggs and white unbuttered bread. This is the best Andrew’s been treated in a very long time. 

Twice Andrew uses the privacy to his advantage, he and Will sneaking away to use the opportunity to get off. Will doesn’t mind Andrew on his knees, and he’s usually content with what he’s given. But then he had pushed their boundaries. 

“What about you?” Will had reached for Andrews tented pants, and Andrew had jerked away. 

“Don’t,” Andrew had snarled, twisting Will’s wrist away from him.

It had taken a long time for Andrew to grow comfortable with the touch of touching someone else. He was still experimenting with his own wants, versus what could just be some ducked up side effects of Andrews abuse. He’s read about survivors who turn into whores in their own desire to reclaim themselves or whatever. 

And Andrew is willing to try the few things he’s comfortable doing— as long as he knows his lines won’t be crossed. He doesn’t want to be touched; not at all, but especially not in any sexual way. 

Will had gotten frustrated at Andrew snapping and hasn’t spoken to him for days. 

The classes are all easy and incredibly boring. Andrew would rather be sitting somewhere secluded with the newest Harry Potter book than sitting in a hard desk chair with some boring teacher prattling in about hypotenuse to a bunch of delinquents because they couldn’t land a better gig elsewhere. 

“Neil, the answer to number 35, please.” 

Unsurprisingly there is no verbal response. It's been more than a month now; Andrew doesn't understand why Sawyer refuses to acknowledge Neil's mutism. 

Neil offers his paper to the teacher, who ignores him. Andrew sighs and reads Neil's answer off-- it's correct, Andrew knows. Neil is good at math- almost as good as Andrew. 

“I want Neil's reply, Andrew.” 

“You want answers from a mute boy?” Andrew is unimpressed. Mr Sawyer is an old man with a bible on his bookshelf and a cross around his neck. He probably believes that some religion can cure Neil's disability. 

“There is nothing physically wrong with him,” sawyer snaps. “Answer me now, Neil. Or you can spend the rest of the week in solitude.” 

Beside Andrew, Neil scowls. 

“Answer me! Use your words. We don't have time to cater to everyone's issues.” 

Slowly Neil stands and walks to the board. In marker he writes the answer. His handwriting is terrible. Sawyer meets him halfway and raises his hand. The smack echoes across the room. Neil doesn't flinch. This isn't the first time an adult has hit him. Neil seems uncaring that he's being slapped around by people who are- in theory- supposed to help him. His eyes are perpetual pools of empty blue. Andrew knows that look and he hates it. Andrew has heard psychologists call it depression or dissociation. Andrew calls it acceptance of a situation or action that nobody can change. 

Andrew is out of his seat before it can happen again. He shoves his way between Neil and Sawyer. 

“I think that's enough of that. Does CPS or Oakland PD know about your hands on teaching methods? No? Maybe we'll give them a call-- well, obviously Neil won't. But I will if you don’t keep your hands to yourself. I won’t warn you again.” Andrew takes Neil by the cuff of his sleeve, dragging Neil along. Neil and Sawyer both are staring at Andrew, one with wonder, one with alarm. Sawyer doesn’t make a move to stop them. 

“We're going to find some ice before his face bruises. Maybe we'll run into Mrs Howard while we're out. I'm sure the board of this fine establishment would like to know about you trying to beat the demons out of their handicapped children.”

Andrew snags Neil by the back of his sleeve, ignoring the flinch, and leads him out the door. They go back to the dorms block, which should be empty right now. Andrew sits down and pulls out a book. Nobody will be along to bother them for quite some time now. Let Neil do what he wishes.

Neil scribbles a quick *thanks* on the first page. His cheek is red from the earlier blow. It’s the first time Neil has communicated directly with Andrew. 

Nobody bothers them until it’s lunch time. Andrew puts the book back into it’s hiding spot and they make their way to the cafeteria. Andrew knows the layout and schedule of the building so thoroughly that he and Neil are able to blend seamlessly into their group before they’re noticed as missing. 

Half-cooked grilled cheese sandwiches and soup for lunch. Andrew watches Neil eat it willingly enough, along with the grapes and then picks at the green beans on his plate. And- really? Green beans with grilled cheese and tomato soup- who’s sick idea was that? Staff must be desperate to get veggies into them. 

“Hey, Doe!” 

Both Andrew and Neil snap their heads up towards Calvin. It must be _pick on Neil_ day. Andrew’s short and fragile temper flares. 

The kid flinches when Andrew touches him. Andrew shoves Neil's head back down toward their table.

“Eat,” Andrews orders. Neil slowly picks at the sandwich on his tray. He's still tensed, ready to run. 

“You're going to get fat if you keep stealing the goodies out of little Red’s picnic basket,” Andrew says slowly, almost as if he's bored. Neil knows better, because not once does Andrew take his eyes off of the threat in front of them. Neil watches from beneath his bangs. 

“Naw, just the desserts.” Calvin smiles. 

“What a shame he's already promised them to me. Now go away before you get us in trouble. It would be a shame for the teachers to put you in time out again.” 

Calvin looks from the circle of adults to Neil, as if it were the kids fault. Thankfully he leaves. The cafeteria is a terrible place for a fight-- too many witnesses. 

Neil doesn't look at Andrew, but as the kid munches his way through a carrot Andrew finds an extra cookie on his tray. It's stale and fairly tasteless and Andrew isn't fond of peanut butter. It's nothing like the chocolate chip cookies Cass used to make him… but Andrew eats it anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so there is good news and bad news. Bad news first? Ok.  
> Bad news is, Still Human is on temporary hiatus. I just don’t have a passion for it right now and I don’t want to short you guys the angst you have come to expect ;)  
> Good news is, I have more than a dozen chapters of Young Trouble written up :)

The wrap around Neil’s hand had finally come off and the stitches removed. Neil was setting his own record for _longest amount of time without a beating_. So much for that. Neil looks like shit, but also like he couldn’t care less. He wears his injuries well, moving like a boy who has had entirely too much practice living with injury. It’s no surprise, with those scars he carries. 

Someone decides that since his roommate is gone, Neil would move into Andrew’s partially occupied room. At least it puts things back into alphabetical order. It takes exactly one trip for Neil to move his things. Andrew is grudging to share the room again, but he supposed it could be worse. Yeah, things could be much worse than a silent, scrawny ginger. At least Neil won’t feel the need to jabber on just to fill the silence. 

Admittedly, Andrew has had worse roommates. He doesn’t chatter aimlessly or make weird humming noises or breathe too loud. He doesn’t badger Andrew with questions. He doesn’t snore. Neil sits quietly and doodles in the pages of his notebook. But the rumor had been correct- Neil has terrible nightmares. He doesn’t scream, not really. But the first night with Andrew, Neil yelps and bolts upright when he wakes up, as if expecting to see something or someone that isn’t there. 

Some of the boys are given sedatives as sleep aides to calm their nightmares. David and Jamie and Jamal all take them regularly. Andrew knows because they sometimes save them and trade them to some of the other boys in exchange for things like food. 

Andrew’s roommate had tried to get Andrew to take them once when it became obvious how his nightmares plagued his sleep. Andrew woke often during the night, the stirring of the bunk bed above him, and startling them both awake. The first time he had tried to wake Andrew, Andrew had broken his nose. In turn, Andrew had gotten several days in seclusion. As much as Andrew would love to sleep in peace, he is too wary of what may happen when he was drugged asleep and unaware. He would rather stay awake. 

But Neil is given them; Andrew watches Neil pretend to swallow the medication down their third night together and then spit it out. Neil needs them- his eyes are sunken into his face with dark circles framing those blue eyes. He looks exhausted. 

Neil is still awake, sitting in the floor with his back to the wall and his notebook propped against his tented knees. He knows Neil is trying not to sleep. It’s been two days since Neil’s not quite screaming nightmare, and he has been stubbornly refusing sleep since. Maybe he’s afraid of how Andrew had snapped at him. Maybe he’s afraid of whatever makes his dreams so bad. Andrew hasn’t heard anything about what Neil did to earn a cot in this place, but there had to be a story behind those body scars and mental health issues. 

The idiots eyes keep dropping and his marker hasn’t touched the paper in nearly an hour. The felt tip is uselessly drying out at this point. He sags next to Andrews, who had claimed the lower bunk.

“What?” Andrew asks gruffly. 

Neil simply shrugs. His blue eyes go from comically wide to nearly closed. It’s annoying. 

“Go the fuck to sleep.” 

To Andrew's surprise, Neil nods and drags himself sluggishly into the top bunk. The kid is asleep before Andrew is. 

As predicted, Neil wakes them up some hours later. Andrew isn’t sure what wakes him first- the scream, or the thump of flesh hitting the wall. Probably Neil’s fist, judging from the pained hiss that escapes into the dark. Then it turns silent, save for the stuttering, panicked breaths. This time, andrew falls asleep before Neil does. 

Neil stares at the door, rather than sleep; in reality, it is much less likely that a monster were to burst through the door than in his dream. Certainly not with Andrew here. They only searched him out when Neil was alone. 

Neil curls up on the top bunk and listens to Andrews steady breathing. It’s a comfort to have someone so close by, even someone who is practically a stranger to him. It reminds him of his mother, and sleeping back to back in the same bed for safety. He wonders where his mother is. Would she ever come back for him? She had left him stranded here, surely she meant for Neil to stay in the area. That meant she wanted to know where he would be when she came back for him, right? 

Neil is still awake when their door is unlocked in the morning. He’s so tired that he can barely thing to stumble off the bunk.

“Did you sleep at all?” Andrew asks, sounding bored. 

Neil rubs at his eyes and shakes his head slowly, as if even that is too much effort. _I miss coffee < _. His handwriting is terrible. Still better than the chicken scratch he scribbled with his left hand over the last several weeks.__

__Fuck, but Andrew misses coffee. And ice cream. And cigarettes._ _

__Andrew stretches like a cat, his arm muscles popping and flexing. He yawns hard enough to pop his jaw. Andrew looks even grumpier than usual in the mornings, his lips droop in a pout and his scowls is deeper. However, the overall effectiveness of the glare is somewhat dulled by the messy mop of blonde hair that sticks out at all angles and droop into Andrew’s eyes. Neil has to tear his eyes away to dress._ _

__Beneath his shirt lie layers upon layers of scars that put Andrews to shame. There are too many knife wounds for anyone to count, all sculpted together with burns and some more indecipherable marks. There is a perfect imprint of an iron on the kids shoulder, holes and all. Andrew suspects one to be a bullet wound, fairly new and still a shiny red beside the kids pale collar bone. From where Andrew stands he can see the exit wound in his shoulder._ _

__It's not a novelty around here-- abused kids turn bitter and angry and violent. Violence begets violence, or some shit like that. And this kid is a walking tragedy the Greeks would admire._ _

__Andrew turns to his own dresser and grabs his own close, if only as a reason not to stare at Neil. He can hear when Neil finishes shoving his feet into the soft-treaded shoes._ _

__“You’re not watching me undress. Turn the fuck around.”_ _

__Surprisingly, Neil obeys. It’s handy having someone around so willing to follow Andrew’s orders. He’s sure that even Will would try to peek, were he in Neil’s position. But Andrew doesn’t turn his back as he dresses- he watches Neil stare at the wall, arms crossed and back fully turned. Neil turns into the corner so Andrew can dress with as much privacy as they can afford. He doesn’t so much as twitch until Andrew clears his throat and allows him to turn._ _

__“We only have a few minutes before someone comes for breakfast, so I’ll cut to the chase- why are you here?”_ _

__Neil's handwriting is choppy straight lines; quick and efficient, if not messy. _Does it matter?_ _ _

__“Don’t ask stupid questions. I’m sleeping in the same room as you, I need to know that you won’t stab me in the middle of the night.”_ _

__Of course it’s impossible to tell if Neil is lying when he writes his answers down and there’s no verbal cues to help Andrew decipher the words. But Neil cracks the smallest of smiles; a sharp, bitter thing. Neil must hate it as much as Andrew, because his fingers dig into his lips like he could tear the look off his face._ _

___I don’t like knives_. _ _

__“No, I would imagine not. Not with those ouchies.”_ _

__Neil looks unimpressed. He scowls at Andrew, though it looks more like a pout on his full lips. It only strengthens when one of the supervisors unlocks their door. The boys A through C have already lined up along the wall, and Andrew and Neil take their place beside them. The morning routine takes about fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on the boys. Some of the heavier sleepers are still snoring when their door gets opened and it takes some effort to get them vertical again. Yeah, coffee is just what this place needs._ _

__Breakfast is burnt eggs- a nice change from the watery ones; bread that may have been an attempt at toast, and fruit. Andrew notices Neil eat the fruit first. It’s tangy with the preservative spray they use but Neil eats it like Andrew eats ice cream._ _

__It’s too early for Calvin and his group to bother them. Everyone looks exhausted, probably because teens require more than eight hours of sleep. Fuck, what Andrew would do for some coffee. Granted, not much, but still. Neil looks ready to land face first in his eggs._ _

__History is first. Andrew’s eidetic memory is one hundred percent the only reason he isn’t failing his morning classes. Eight A.M. is entirely too early for these things. It should be criminal to make anyone study maths or history before noon. Neil is no better. He falls asleep on his book, and nearly falls out of his seat when Andrew kicks his shoe to wake him. He wouldn’t have bothered, but the teacher is an asshole and would love a chance to make an example of Neil._ _

__Neil regains his composure, ducking his head when some of the guys around them snicker. At least the history teacher continues with his lesson. Andrew let’s Neil copy from his notes, but they’re sparse at best. Andrew doesn’t need notes._ _

__Those big blue eyes look blurry with exhaustion. Up close, Andrew can see freckles on Neil’s nose and cheeks, and thick lashes around his eyes. They’re long and flutter when he tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. He’s pale when he’s sleeping. Andrew prefers the blush he gets when he’s running on the court._ _

__Chemistry is no better. At least this teacher knows that it’s entirely too early, and keeps the lessons simple. That, or she thinks the kids in juvie are too stupid to understand anything more complex. In some cases she’s right. But now Andrew is awake and he’s bored. He had been in advanced classes before, but Westshore offered none. Whether it was because of a lack of funding, or because they thought if the kids were stupid enough to get caught they didn’t belong in advanced classes, Andrew didn’t know. He wasn’t stupid. He was here because he wanted to be._ _

__The teacher calls on Neil to give her the periodic abbreviation for Aluminum. Neil rights it, beside Aluminium. Not aluminum. Interesting._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell at me on tumblr @booksaboutgay 
> 
> (Also, I feel like nekojita would totally kick ass writing this idea but instead you’re all stuck with me :D )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAUSE! Did everybody read the updated tags? READ THE UPDATED TAGS PLEASE!!!!

Andrew wakes from his own sleep Neil’s strangled screech in the dark. Andrew nearly throws himself out of bed with how violently he wakes. His elbow slams into the bed frame, which fucking hurts. But the scream stops suddenly, followed immediately by a thump of Neil’s back hitting the wall behind him. Andrew relaxes into the mattress, relieved that they’re still alone in their room. It’s empty and they’re safe. 

Neil’s gasping, panicking from whatever demons his dreams had summoned. The gasps turn into hiccups and the bed shakes as Neil flops back down into his pillows. He suspects that Neil might be crying but he doesn’t make a sound and Andrew leaves him be. 

At least, until Andrews heart won’t stop racing and then his mind thinks back to Drake and Stephen and the others. And the he could use the distraction so Andrew gets out of bed and stands on the ladder to glare at Neil. 

Neil, who has one hand covering his mouth and the other clenched in his pajama pants. He’s curled up as if to make himself a smaller target and he’s so pale that his freckles contrast starkly, even in the dim light. He flinches violently away from Andrew, pressing himself against the wall. Hard enough to bruise. 

Andrew isn’t sure what to say. Neil looks terrified, staring past Andrew to the dark corners of the room, to the locked door, to the barred window and back around again. He looks like he wants to run. 

“Calm down. It’s just us here and nobody is touching that door until 7am. You’re safe.” 

Neil nods but doesn’t look like he believes the words Andrew says. Andrew nods once and returns to his own bed. Neither of them sleep again that night. 

The day after is difficult. Neil looks sleep deprived and shifty. He is quick to put space between himself and everyone else, including Andrew. Andrew had taken to glaring everyone away and most were smart enough to listen. Neil started to calm down as the hours passed but he flinches when one of the teachers grabs his shoulder to get his attention or when someone bumps him in the halls or when Trujillo kicks the back of his chair. Andrew gives the kid as much space as they can manage and lets him ride out the bad mood. 

 

****** Neil******

The routine is reassuring, if not daunting. Neil used to be able to sleep anywhere; he had slept at bus stations and park benches, in the back of unlocked cars and in abandoned buildings. But he hadn’t been able to close his eyes in months. Almost time he sleeps he dreams of Michael. Neil had never been great at school- math was his strong point, but English and history were his worst. Still, even with all the moving around he had been able to maintain passable grades. But now he struggles to concentrate on even math. His English and history were in the gutter, and his chemistry wasn’t much better. His Spanish grades were the best, but only because it was remedial. 

Maybe it was the sleeplessness that made his brain so scattered. They give him pills for that here, but they make the nightmares worse. Neil would rather be exhausted from waking up, than be stuck in his tortured memories for hours. The dark of his subconscious likes to add particularly disgusting twists to these dreams, making it even more unbearable than the reality had been. 

Then again, he had trouble focusing even when he did sleep. It was like nothing was important enough to keep his attention. He often found his mind wandering, just barely grazing one thought before skipping to another. 

Thankfully, Andrew is more helpful than he had been led to believe. The first few days after his transfer Neil had been pulled aside by different people telling him to be wary of Andrew. That Andrew was dangerous. Sure, he looked like a scowling grouch, or a blank-faced sociopath. But he was even shorter than Neil, and when he wasn’t in the weight room he was reading docilely in the library or in their room. He kicks Neil awake when he dozed in class- which, while frightening, is necessary. He even lets Neil copy his notes, even if they are cryptic and lacking. Best of all, he hasn’t made a single aggressive move towards Neil. Andrew even protected him from some of the other boys. Not all of them, but Neil was used to being beat up; that was part of why Andrew’s calm demeanor was so strange. 

It got easier once Neil had been moved to C group. E wasn’t aloud a recess for nearly as long, and had stricter access to the sports equipment. Now, Neil was outside for an hour which he used to run along the track that ran the perimeter of the yard. And gym is held inside, but Neil was allowed to run laps while his hand had been healing. It seems that the only time he can distance himself from his thoughts is when he’s running. 

Plus, he has Exy again. His mother would beat him bloody if she ever caught him on the court. The Exy court is in its own yard, fenced off from the rest of the facility so visitors can come for games. The paint is old and cracked, and the floors could use a good polish. The glass is scuffed from years of balls and sticks and armor crashing against it. It could use some work, but it’s a real court, with stands and everything. Their Hornet mascot is painted above the stands, and the seats used to be yellow, he thinks. Their uniforms are black and yellow, and only in better shape than the stands are. 

Neil feels his best when he’s on the court. The Striker’s armor is heavy enough to protect him from tackles, but usually Neil is too quick to be caught. He’s usually fine when someone manages to catch him and tackle him to the ground, and the guys are quick to get off of him. Coach selects his team himself, and he looks for boys who can work together. It’s not flawless, but it cuts down on the injuries. 

E group had been able to participate in practices, but were considered too violent for games. Their yard time was limited to a half hour, and their gym time was mostly solo things, like the equipment, or other exercises. No games or anything, like C group was allowed. 

And after practice, he’s allowed free time now, rather than being taken straight back to his room. Often times, Andrew and Neil find each other during their free time. 

They find each other in the weight room this time. There’s a new movie on in the media room, so Andrew is alone when Neil comes in. The speakers are playing something that treads the thin line between motivational and violent, and Andrew is sitting at the weights machine. Neil stretches, mindful of their surroundings, and mindful of the space between him and Andrew. 

Neil hops on a treadmill, the tread worn and in desperate need of replacement. Neil of them feel the need to chatter uselessly, and so they workout in peace. Maybe that’s why they find each other so often. There aren’t many quiet corners in this place, and Neil would rather not suffer the teasing and prodding of the other boys. And they’re respectful each others space. The other boys are more prone to shoving at shoulders, or a little rough housing when they can get away with it. Even cheek poking to revoke a reaction is popular, and Neil hates it. Andrew and Neil seem to have an unspoken rule that they stay out of arms reach of everyone, especially each other. 

Neil’s footsteps are drowned out in the music that plays from the speakers. It’s relaxing to have the room mostly to himself. He can almost pretend that he’s safe and free. Running with his mother watching like a hawk, smoking her cigarettes while she indulges her son in one of his better habits. Neil doesn’t know what song is on playing above them, but it’s played at least ten times in the last week. Neil recognizes it. And apparently so does Andrew. 

Without breaking his rhythm with the weights, Andrew raps along with surprising skill. For someone who hardly speaks unless to instigate trouble, he sure is good at using it. Neil can hear him over the actual singers words, beat for beat. The words get faster, too fast for Neil to hardly understand. But Andrew keeps up. Neil has to stop the machine after he trips because he was staring at him. 

His muscles bulge with the weight and he’s flushed and sweaty and honestly, Andrews arms are kind of getting huge with all the weights he’s using. He finds himself mesmerized with the way that Andrew’s mouth moves over the words. 

The song finishes and Neil is still staring. Andrew looks up at Neil, still working the machine. He looks utterly unimpressed with Neil’s attention but Andrew smirks. 

Andrew states back utterly blank. “No one will ever believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am well aware that Andrew is ooc at the end, but I just watched that episode of b99 and I couldn’t help myself. 
> 
> Please comment here, or feel free to yell at me @booksaboutgay on tumblr :)


	5. Chapter 5

Andrew has anger issues- sort of. The adults call them anger issues. Neil silently calls it a short patience for jackasses. In the short time Neil has known him, he has come to realize that Andrew does not lash out randomly. He gets bored and instigated fights to practice holding his ground; he doesn’t let the older, larger boys from crossing the lines Andrew has drawn; he breaks things because he is trapped in this boring, repetitive institution with only Exy as an outlet and he can’t stand the monotony. 

Neil knows that Andrew learns things easily, with very little effort. His test scores make a mockery of Neil’s, despite Andrew’s poor note taking skills. Andrew likes to read and fight and argue with teachers, just to instigate trouble. Neil watches from the track as Andrew drops down from the pull-up bar and stands toe to toe with Calvin. Neil stops his jog and watches warily. 

Andrew throws the first punch. He fights like someone who knows how to take a larger opponent. It reminds Neil of his mother, how Andrew so easily stands to people who tower over him. Though, Neil and his mother preferred weapons to level the playing field. Guns, mostly. 

His first move is to bring Calvin down to his level. Andrew jabs a fist into what Neil knows is a kidney. Calvin bends at the pain of it, and Andrew brings his knee up to the guys face for a finishing blow. It’s quick and efficient. Calving doesn’t land a blow, but now his cronies are gathering around and there isn’t an adult in sight. 

Sprinting, Neil reaches the men after the fight has began. Surely won’t take long for someone to notice the chaos, but one against three is unfair odds. One of the cronies- Neil doesn’t know his name- swings a fist that Neil ducks. He punches the guy in his side, left open and vulnerable. 

Another fist comes out of nowhere and hits Neil in the head. Neil crashes to the ground, and just manages to roll before someone stomped on him. He stands quickly, but isn’t able to move fast enough to dodge the blow to his ribs. He ignores the pain and jabs at the other boys throat. With a gag, he drops to knees. 

He’s still wheezing when the guards get there. Two of them separate Andrew from Chase. Nurse Alex comes running out, and they look at the two boys on the ground. The fourth is restrained for good measure. 

Neil tries to cooperate when one of the men grabs his wrists, crossing them behind the boys back. He tells himself he’s in the yard, that nobody will hurt him like he’s been trained to expect. But the man is _behind him_ , and he’s holding Neil wrists down and- and- … 

The logical side of his brain sputters uselessly as his panic takes over. He struggles against the hands holding him down, fighting desperately to push away the body pressing against him. He’s pushing Neil down, face first. The weight of the man pins him. He can’t breathe. He wants to scream but the weight on him is crushing his lungs. 

Fuck. Why can’t he leave him alone? Just keep his fucking hands to himself. Stop, stop, stop- 

He can’t get away. His hands clench around nothing, and the man’s hands keeping Neil from fighting; from getting away. 

His chest hurts. He wishes Michael would just go. He can’t breathe. 

 

*****

Neil wakes up without remembering falling asleep. He doesn’t remember going to his room. But then, this isn’t his room. The white around him is curtains, not walls. His head nose itches. He moves to scratch it but his wrist catches. 

The cuff around his wrist hurts against the bruises. That doesn’t make sense. He remembers fighting Michael. Michael hasn’t cuffed him down before. But the implications of trapping Neil to a bed are nauseating. 

The cuffs won’t budge, they don’t bend or stretch, no matter how Neil struggles. If anything, they feel tighter. His arms begin to burn. He can’t move, he can’t run. He can’t even call for help. That vice clamps back around Neil’s chest. He has to leave. He has to go, he can’t let Michael catch him here, trapped and all alone. And concussed, maybe, from the way his head aches and spins. 

A door opens. Neil can see it from the gap in his curtains, the man coming closer. He’s saying something but Neil can’t understand over the roaring in his ears. He can’t move. 

Neil buried his face in his knees. He can’t beg, can’t speak to tell him to stop, to leave him alone. He can’t breathe. 

 

****** Andrew ******

 

Twenty four hours. That’s how long they have Neil in the clinic. After yesterday’s episode, he had fainted. The nurse had suspected a concussion, but they had only found a small lump on Neil’s head where he was hit. They had thought maybe the guard had made Neil hit his head, with the violent way he had pinned the teen down. 

Either way, Neil had fainted before any repercussions for the fight could be doled out. Andrew was in solitary, as were any of the other idiots involved in their little scene. All over Neil, too. The dramatic little shit. He should have just run his laps like a good little rabbit. But he had to interfere with Andrew’s one and only attempt at defending the idiots honor, and was now locked away in the clinic. At least Nurse Alex had come to give him an update on Neil when they checked Andrew over for injuries. They had given him an ice pack for the worst bruises, but he was fine, _he_ hadn’t been the one to faint. 

Which, again, left the question- what about Neil? 

Andrew is grounded for another day before they let him out. Neil is already in bed when Andrew gets there. He’s curled on his side in the top bunk, his back pressed to the wall and the blanket drawn up to his ears. He must have been asleep when Andrew came in, because he jumps when the door clicks closed. 

“Back to the land of the living, sleeping beauty?” 

He doesn’t look like it. He looks pallid and his eyes are baggy and bloodshot. 

“What’s the verdict? Are you going to live?” 

Neil’s hand pulls his notebook and marker towards him and slowly scribbles our a reply. That’s going to get old quick… 

_Panic attack._

Oh. Huh. Well, that wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. Neil had panicked so bad he had fainted? That was… new. 

And dramatic. 

“Wow. You really are fucking tragic.”

Neil scowls and flicks him the bird. At least the idiot isn’t totally catatonic. 

“You look like shit.” 

_Why did they even bother letting you out?_

Neil shows Andrew the notebook. “Good behavior.”

Neil’s eyes roll. _Lie to someone who doesn’t know you._

“Hey, you’re the one jumping into fights unprovoked. I feel like that makes you the unstable one.” 

Neil throws the notebook at Andrew. And immediately regrets it. Andrew holds it victoriously, his lips quirked minutely. He raises his brows. 

“You should be careful who you throw this at. You won’t want any juicy gossip getting out because of this thing. ‘Dear Diary- how I long for true love’s kiss, to restore my voice. Alas, the evil sea cow Ursula has thwarted me yet again.”

Neil wants to tell him that it’s a means of communication, not a diary. But, well…. Andrew doesn’t seem very liable to give it back just to hear Neil’s witty retorts, and neither of them know sign. 

Andrew flips through the pages, skimming and searching for something interesting to read. Most of the conversations he recognizes as his own. The rest are answers to questions from the teachers.

“Wow. For some criminal mastermind, you’re really boring. Not that I was expecting Moriarty, but you’re not even Watson.” 

Neil… doesn’t understand what Andrew is talking about. He doesn’t know those people. Unless he’s talking about Darrell Watson, who is nearly six feet tall and has arms the size of Neil’s waist. But he sees no similarities between the two. 

Annoyed, Neil hops off the bed and lunges for Andrew. They’re both quick but there’s only so far Andrew can run before Neil has him cornered. He snatches the notebook from Andrew’s hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to change the tags again for future chapters :)

Neil notices Andrew not even bothering to pretend to eat the meal laid out before him- mashed potatoes and chicken soup. Andrew has looked worn thin all day. He was snappier than usual, but more isolated. He ignored Neil several times throughout the morning and Neil wonders what was wrong. He knows that his roommate hadn’t slept but the mood appears to be more than exhaustion. 

Andrew had eaten the floury brownie in a few quick bites and then plays with the rest of it, pushing it around the plate and drumming on the table. Lunch was almost over, and Neil had finished his vegetable/chicken soup and potatoes, and left the brownie untouched. He didn’t like deserts. Not wanting to waste food, or Andrew to go hungry, Neil carefully deposits the brown lump onto Andrew’s tray. 

The blonde flinches when Neil gets close, but only glares at the brownie as if the pastry had offended him. A few seconds later, he turns that glare to Neil. Wordlessly, Neil shrugs. Andrew looks suspicious, but snatches the dessert up when the teens all stand up to leave. He eats this one as quickly as the first, but at least his eyes look curious now, instead of hollow. 

“Thanks, Anastasia.” 

Yet another reference Neil doesn’t understand. 

****** Andrew ******

Andrew is absolutely not waiting for Neil to scribble on his paper every single time he has something to say to Andrew. It’s inconveniently slow and half the time Andrew can’t read his writing anyway, and Neil has to scribble everything over again. It’s time consuming and frustrating. 

The English teacher, Mrs Rawlins, is always good about giving her students plenty of time to explore the library. More than once Andrew has used this time to sneak away with Will and let out some of his sexual frustration behind the filing cabinet and conveniently placed rubber trees. 

Today he ignores Will’s hooded, suggestive eyes and hunts down a book on ASL. Unfortunately there was only one beginners book and it would take weeks to have the next books ordered in. 

The librarian is a busy woman who hardly looks old enough to work in a detention center, library or no. She’s always looking between the open books scattered on her desk and the computer. She’s always typing something. Research, maybe. Or a book. Maybe online classes- who knows. 

Neil is sitting quietly in the corner, ignoring Amanda's best attempts to show him the rubber trees. In his lap is a worn Exy book, with Tetsuji Moriyama pictures arrogantly on the cover. 

Northshore encourages them to use manners, but _please_ and _thank you_ never did Andrew any good anyway. 

“Is this the only ASL book you have?”

“Yes, why?” She perks up. “Are you interested in learning?” 

Andrew nods. 

“That's lovely. My sister was deaf, that's the book we learned with. I brought it from home and it hasn't been picked up since. I can see about ordering some more advanced editions. It might take a while. Or I can speak to your advisor about online classes.” 

“Both, I think. For me and Neil Doe, the boy in the corner. Neil, come here.” The last part is shouted across the room, despite the hushes hissed his way. 

Neil stands, grateful for an excuse to leave some annoying weirdo behind. He brings the book with him, clutched in his fist like someone might tear it away from him. This kid has issues. 

“Mrs Sarah is kindly helping us enroll in some online classes for sign language.” Andrew turns back to the librarian. “Northshore hasn't been very accommodating to Neil's needs, I’m afraid.” 

The woman scowls. “Well that just isn't right. How much do you know, dear?” 

Neil shakes his head. 

“Your parents didn't teach you?” She sounds concerned, as if Neil is some poor lost lamb and not a delinquent locked up in a juvenile detention facility for murdering his foster father. 

“He was a foster kid. I'm sure they had better things to spend the state's money on.” This was why they needed to learn- so Andrew wasn’t stuck playing translator for Ariel. 

The woman grumbles unintelligibly. She does something on her computer, supposedly bringing up her email. 

“Who are your advisors?” 

“We both have Colin Bailey.” Though Andrew hadn't had reason to speak to the man after the first day. Advisors made sure their assigned charges were passing classes and participating in therapy. They were purely for academics. 

“I'll email him and see if we can't arrange something for the two of you. For now, that book will have to do. If you want some help, you can come see me. I still remember a few things, though it's been years since I've used it.” 

She checks the language book out for Andrew, and the Exy book out for Neil. They practice during study hall, but books aren’t allowed in the cafeteria. They take it outside with them at recess and sit side by side while they practice. One of Neil’s fingers doesn’t bend quite like it should, thanks to the pencil through his hand, but he manages. 

Andrew is better than Neil, and it’s annoying. As practice, they sit and point out things around the room- lamps, desks and things, and the other translates. 

They’re sitting against the wall in their room, so close that their arms brush each other when they point. Still, neither of them move. Neil even thinks that this kind of soft, harmless warmth isn’t bad. It’s a strange thought, coming from someone so touch adverse. 

Neil points to a spider on the ceiling and replaces the word with ones he does know. Andrew’s lips quirk into that almost-smile, and he raises his eyebrows at his friend. 

“What?” Andrew’s face scrunches in confusion. It’s subtle, but Neil can tell Andrew’s expressions if he watches closely. 

_Spider._ Neil writes when he fails to remember the word. 

“Black eight. Really? Why don’t you just wiggle your fingers around. You would have been closer.” 

Neil flips him off. 

“At least you know that one,” Andrew snarks. 

Andrew demonstrates ‘spider’, and Neil copies. They’re through most of the book by now, save for the page Andrew had torn out. That had been the page for please and thank you. Andrew had snarled and torn it out, telling Neil they would be useless words anyway. Neil had been confused at Andrew’s violent reaction, and a little annoyed that he hadn’t gotten to learn them. Even if they had upset Andrew. 

Mrs Sarah lets them study in the library during their study hall, and even helps them when she isn’t busy. She sees them spelling their names, and laughs. 

“You don’t have to spell them out. That would take way too long. Pick something simple for a nickname, like Red.” 

Andrew smirks. He looks Neil dead in the eye and signs _short_. It’s not his best work, but they currently have the vocabulary of a toddler, and Andrew can find a better one when they learn more. 

In retaliation, Andrew becomes _angry_. Mrs Sarah laughs at them both, but wisely leaves them be. 

******

It takes another week before Mrs Sarah has bullied the admins into allowing Andrew and Neil independent study. Its scheduled for an hour, daily, in the library on the computers. It’s an online class, with a few extra books that Mrs Sarah brought in. Neil and Andrew aren’t sure how she manages to get them so much freedom but they can guess, from the way she talks about discrimination and lawful good. 

They should be doing homework. Neil excels in math and Andrew is good at everything so they split the homework and then share answers. They use the rest of the time to practice their sign language. 

They study and practice until words become muscle memory in their quick fingers. Neil starts smiling more and Andrew absolutely doesn’t care that it’s because of him. Nope. He doesn’t care at all. 

They study for weeks before Neil’s name changes from _short_ to _idiot_. They get to the point where they communicate during lessons, beneath the teachers notice and ignoring most of the class. A few choppy words become entire sentences and arguments and petty bickering.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags again, for later chapters. Please read :)

Neil can’t sleep. Actually, that’s not quite right. He could if he wanted to- he used to have the uncanny ability to sleep wherever he wanted; bus stops and park benches and under dumpsters; in alleyways behind a pile of trash cans. 

It’s that he doesn’t want to. Every time he closes his eyes vivid nightmares play behind his eyelids like the reel of horror films. Knives and blood and naked men and- and Neil doesn’t _want_ to sleep. He’s going on day three of no sleep. But it’s better than reliving the worst highlights of his life. He’s had to watch his mother walk away from him so many times.

There’s this water spot in the ceiling that Neil swears is actually growing in size, but he never actually gets dripped on. Maybe it’s a mold spot and Neil and Andrew will develop asthma because of the spores. Maybe it’s a ghost. Do ghosts live in ceiling tiles? 

Neil shifts, uncomfortable in his own skin. He feels pulled right, like he’s skin doesn’t quite fit like it should. He’s been uncomfortable all night. All day. It’s terrible. Maybe it’s because of the sleep deprivation. 

“Stop.” 

Neil jolts after Andrew’s voice, hoarse and sleepy. Is Andrew awake or is he sleep talking?

“You’ve been up for days. Just go to sleep or they’ll put you in the infirmary and drug you to sleep.” 

Neil leans over the edge of the bed too far and nearly falls. His coordination is off mark and clumsy. 

Below him, Andrew is curled on his side, glaring at Neil. His hair is ruffled from sleep, long and fluffy and oddly adorable. It contrasts so badly with the glare on his face and Neil can’t stop the giggles from escaping. 

Except now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. He laughs and laughs. He puts his hand over his mouth and doubles over, nearly losing his balance again. He keeps giggling, now bordering on hysteric. Andrew’s face changes from grumpy to concerned and for some reason Neil finds even funnier. He’s in hysterics, clutching his sides and trying to keep the noise inside of him- it sounds familiar ugly and manic but he can’t stop. 

Neil rolls too far and tumbles from the top bunk. He just manages to catch the frame and land on his feet. He finds that hysterical. His knees buckle in his laughter and his stomach hurts and his eyes feel like they’re going to melt out of his head. His head hurts. 

“Neil.” 

Neil kneels on the floor, his head on the ground, giggling uncontrollably. Tears are falling down his face and he can’t breath and at some indistinguishable point, he’s pretty sure the giggles turn into some sort of choking noise. When Neil finally quiets down his face hurts and his ribs are aching. He feels stretched thin, like there isn’t enough of him. He wants to sleep but he doesn’t dare. He’s afraid. 

“Are you done?” 

Neil sits up against the wall and curls his legs beneath his chin. He nods. 

“Maybe they need to drug you.” 

Neil flips him off, feeling miserable. 

_I can’t sleep,_ he signs clumsily. _bad dream._

“You have too many issues.” Andrew stares blankly at Neil. “Try losing a couple.” 

Neil scoots closer to Andrew’s bed, allowing himself to lean on the frame. Neil’s eyes find the spot on the ceiling. 

_Do you believe in ghosts?_

“Literal? No.” 

_Why?_

Andrew decides to humor him. “It doesn’t make sense to have one form and then leave it when you die and have a second form. Physical things can hurt you, I don’t see how some ghost with magic powers is supposed to get shit done.” 

_Not magic powers, telepathy._

“What would be the point? Just sit around watching the world go by? Useless.” 

_What about unfinished business?_

“And then what? They finish and move on to some heaven or hell place after that? That’s bullshit. Or do they just evaporate? Again, pointless.” 

They sit in Ilene for a while longer, Neil distantly analyzing Andrew’s words through the haze of fog in his head. 

“Aliens are real,” Andrew says suddenly, with a surety that Neil finds surprising. 

_No they aren’t,_ Neil scowls. _Then why don’t we see little green martians when we go out?_

“Ever heard of a little thing called ‘racism’? Smartass. Aliens aren’t stupid enough to jump into that. They have to wait until we mature as a civilization, first.” 

Neil snorts. _If we don’t blow up the planet first._

“That’s true. But there’s too much proof about ancient aliens to ignore. Think about all the progress we made in such a short period of time. And there’s Stonehenge and the pyramids.”

 _You don’t think they built some sort of pulley system?_

It’s Andrew’s turn to scoff. “Unlikely. One of those blocks alone weighed two and a half tons.” 

Neil gives Andrew a considering look. _You have an eidetic memory, don’t you?_ Neil has to spell eidetic, he doesn't know the sign. But he’s been with Andrew for quite a while now and he’s noticed that Andrew just knows things without studying. He can read a page in a book and recite it aloud without looking, and he generally has some sort of answer for most of Neil’s random questions. He can recall details when prompted, like the space facts and the sign language. 

Andrew doesn’t answer but he doesn’t argue either, and Neil takes it as confirmation. 

_That’s amazing._ Neil’s fingers are starting to tangle, his movements getting clumsier. 

Andrew stretches to reach the top bunk, tugging Neil’s blanket down and throwing it over the idiot. Andrew talks on about ancient aliens until he’s sure the idiot is asleep, and then he soon follows. 

The bruises under Neil’s eyes haven’t cleared away by the few meager hours of rest Andrew had given him. But he isn’t hysterical and his flinching is at a minimum so he must not be seeing shadows anymore. Good thing it’s a weekend and they don’t have to pay attention. After breakfast Andrew goes to the weight room and Neil goes to the library. Neil intends to study some of the signs that Andrew had miraculously mastered but he finds concentration too difficult a task right now. After an hour he goes searching for Andrew. 

Andrew is doing pull-ups on the bar- the weight machine is broken with a sign taped to the bench. He’s built even more muscle since Neil’s arrival and it shows. It’s part of the reason why most of the boys leave him alone. Because Andrew doesn’t care who he has to fuck up- if someone crosses a line, Andrew will tear them apart- a fact he has proven time and time again. 

Neil is wavering on his feet. Andrew watches from the corner of his eye, half expecting his idiot to pass out. But Neil seems the type to hide somewhere safe, rather than let himself pass out in plain view of everyone. But then again, he was a stubborn junkie. 

Someone cracks a homophobic joke about Neil staring at Andrew. Andrew ignores them but Neil blushes and walks to the treadmill. Andrew scoffs. 

“Rabbit,” He puffs through breaths. 

Andrew’s muscles bulge and sweat and Neil isn’t sure about the feelings that flutter in his chest. Neil isn’t sure what it is that watching Andrew sweat is more important than anything else in the room, but he likes watching and Andrew doesn’t seem to mind anymore. 

Andrew drops from the bar and sits on the leg bench beside Neil. 

_Tell me the truth,_ Neil signs when he sees Andrew looking. _You’re goalie so you don’t have to run, right?_

Behind him, Neil can see someone mocking him openly, waving his hands and arms around to poorly mimic Neil’s signing. The kid is new, trying to impress someone- who, he doesn’t know. Nor does he care. 

One of the other teens is using one of the other machines wrong. His face is red and his brows are furrowed and he looks like he’s about to have a stroke.

 _’He looks like a jackass,_ Andrew starts.

Neil is subtle in glancing over to the guy and snorts- he also stumbles on the track, nearly face planting into the controls. 

_Is he okay? Did anyone check that he’s still breathing?_

_Does it matter? One less idiot wasting valuable oxygen._

Andrew face is stoic but Neil can see the humor bright in his eyes. Everyone may act like Andrew is some monster, but they don’t get to see this side of Andrew- they don’t care to. But Andrew and Neil like it better this way; just the two of them laughing at the world while everyone keeps away. It feels safe, a foreign sensation to a boy on the run. 

“Andrew!” Someone shouts. “I bet you a week’s desserts that I can lift more than you.” 

When it comes to sweets, Andrew was a desperate man and this was an easy win. Obviously the other teen had never seen the two-fifty that Andrew could lift. 

“With what machine?” Andrew is up for the challenge but the weight bench is broken and for safety’s sake there are no barbells or free weights of any sort. 

“I bet can’t bench press that little buddie of yours.” 

Andrew raised his brows at Neil, who stops running when he recognizes the mischief in Andrew’s eyes. Neil’s scrawny hundred and ten was nothing. 

‘Yes or no?’ Andrew signs to Neil. 

Neil shrugs and walks over. Andrew lays on his back on the ground and Neil hovers near him, confused as to what he should do. 

“Turn around,” Andrew rolls his eyes. “Back bend over me.”

Andrew has no idea if Neil has the balance or flexibility to do a backbend, but if he doesn’t then Neil seriously needs to do more than just running. Neil does as he says, and Andrew is careful to hold his shoulders and the small of his back- not his ass, which he itches to grope. But Andrew is better than that, he doesn’t touch without permission. 

Neil tenses his core as Andrew lifts him, balancing with his arms and legs as he wobbled a little. Having Andrew touching him leaves Neil a little breathless, despite the room of people watching them. 

Andrew lifts him up to the length of his arms and back down to his chest. Neil can feel the body heat coming from Andrew. They do this twenty times, just to prove Andrew’s point. And maybe because Andrew liked having Neil beneath his hands. But mostly to prove his point. 

He dumps Neil gracelessly onto the floor, where Neil scowls at him, rubbing his elbow. He flips Andrew off and kicks at him uselessly. The room erupts into applause and cheer, like Andrew had done some exceptional thing. And Andrew looks entirely too smug about it. 

_Not that impressive,_ Neil’s rolls his eyes. 

“Can you do better?” 

Neil grins and props himself into a handstand. His shirt is tucked up into the sweatpants that Westshore provides and it allows him a little freedom to walk around on his hands without baring his flesh. 

Andrew snorts. “Show off.” He pushes at Neil’s ankle, toppling the junkie over. 

Neil grins, savoring his victory. 

 

******

 

Will is badgering today, following Andrew along like a puppy- or a spurned lover. He’s currently watching Andrew doing exercises in the yard and pouting. 

“Ok, so like, what’s with you and Neil?” Or a jealous lover. 

“Jealous much?” Andrew rolls his eyes. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him and he’s been here six months already. And you’ve barely talked to me. I just- did I do something wrong?” 

“Don’t make the mistake of confusing this,” Andrew motions between them, “as a relationship. If you want a boyfriend look elsewhere. You knew what this was when we started.”

Will sputters indignantly. “But Andrew! We’ve been doing this for years, can you blame me for- okay, never mind. You know what? Go to hell. Fuck right off, Andrew.” 

Will leaves him in an indignant huff. Neil soon joins him while Andrew continues his pull-ups. 

_Everything ok?_

“It’s nothing.” Neil nods and stretches out beside him. Soon they’re called back inside. 

Neil is running a quick errand for Ms Sarah during his free study period and he has the hall pass to prove it. When a door opens Neil expects a guard to interrogate him. Instead it’s the boy who was talking to Andrew earlier. It had looked like they had been arguing. 

Will stops walking to look expectantly at Neil, eyes roving over him slowly. Neil doesn’t understand the sudden attention. He keeps walking until will grabs his shirt. 

“Neil, right? Which way are you headed?” 

As predicted, Neil doesn’t say anything. He sort of points vaguely in the direction of the administration offices. 

“I’ll walk you.” 

Neil doesn’t bother arguing, he only scowls. He doubts that the kid would leave him alone anyway. Maybe Neil can find out what Andrew had been arguing about. 

“Let me just grab some stuff out of here.” Will motions to the supplies closet, with the key in hand. “Mr Thomas needed some more printer paper. Can you get it for me? Top shelf, I can’t reach.” 

The kid is almost as short as Andrew, probably the same height as Neil. He could probably reach it without help but Neil doesn’t bother arguing. It will take less time just to grab the paper for him. Neil stretches to the top shelf for the stacks of printer paper and the door closes, leaving him in the dark. He expects will to open it for him but there is nothing. He tries this knob first, which is, of course, locked. Neil pounds on the door to no avail. There is no light in here, it’s only a small closet. 

Neil kicks at the door continuously for a while. Ms Sarah and Andrew both would notice him missing soon and come looking for him. So he keeps knocking at the door and waiting. 

And waiting. 

And waiting. 

Hours have passed and even dinner is surely over. Nobody hears his knocking over the chatter in the hallways. Neil waits…. and waits. 

At some point Neil falls asleep. At some point he wakes on the floor, the only light filtering through the cracks around the door. Neil tries to knob again- still nothing. He takes to beating his fist against the door as hard as he can, again and again, despite the growing pain. The dark and the confined space makes Neil want to scream. 

It’s so close to his father's basement. He can hear the air move as the axe swings down. Neil can hear the crunch of bone and flesh separating. The screams of the men and women that had died there. The smell of their blood taints the air with a cooper taste that lingers in Neil’s mouth and throat, thick and cloying and hot. He can hear Lola laugh. 

_’Oh Junior, be a good boy. Hand daddy the cleaver.’_

The door opens, flooding the small space with bright light from the hall. Someone screamed shortly- more of a yelp of surprise, really.   
Neil shakes his head. It’s Andrew, looking unamused. 

“You decide to go off on another adventure?” 

_Your jealous boyfriend locked me in the closet. There’s an ironic joke there somewhere._

“You’re the only joke here. Are you alright?” 

_I’m fine. Nobody touched me. He just locked me in. It reminded me of the basement where I grew up,_ Neil admits slowly. _It wasn’t great, but I’m not hurt._

Andrew glances down at Neil’s knuckles. “Did you really hit the door until your knuckles bled?”

Neil nods tentatively. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Andrew steps in close, pulling the door behind him. Not all the way, but enough to get them a bit of privacy. 

“While we’re here, may as well put it to good use. I want to kiss you.” 

Neil’s heart flops wildly, his breath catching. He finds himself nodding. 

“Don’t touch me,” Andrew warns before he surges up to meet Neil. 

Andrew’s kiss is hot and hard and electric. Neil relaxes into it, knowing Andrew was safe. Too soon it stops, and Andrew pulls away. Neil touches his tingling lips. They’re sore and swollen but Neil’s skin doesn’t feel like slime is dripping off of him. 

“Come on, nobody has even noticed you’re gone. If we hurry you won’t get caught wandering off.” 

Andrew brings Neil by the clinic to get his knuckles wrapped, and nurse Alex wraps Neil’s knuckles. Neil is still in pleasant shock when they go to sleep, and when he finally closes his eyes he doesn’t dream. 

Andrew wakes up before Neil. It appears that the pair of them are exempt from the days classes, probably because Andrew had been interrogated on Neil’s mysterious disappearance until the guard had radioed in. So they’re stuck together in the room until someone lets them out for a meal. 

Neil sleeps the sleep of the dead, unmoving and blissful for a few precious hours. Andrew lets him sleep, content to read in his own bunk. Ms Sarah had taken a liking to the pair of them and ordered in books that they had wanted- Exy magazines for Neil, and various novels for Andrew. Neil sneezes himself awake in a very amusing fashion. Andrew allows him a moment to wake up before he starts asking questions. 

“Are you claustrophobic?” 

Neil looks confused for a moment before wavering his hand again. _The dark and the close space wasn’t a good combination._

Andrew stares at Neil’s shirt like he can see through the material to the scars beneath. 

_How long have you been here?_

“Three years,” Andrew says. “How did you get shot?” 

Neil rubs a hand over the scar on his shoulder. It’s still sensitive. Some days the rough material of his shirt is too much stimulation on the tender nerves. 

_My father. My mom took me and we ran and he tried to stop us. He shot me but we kept running._

_Ask me another question,_ Andrew demands, his eyebrows scrunched down in a frown. He switched to sign. 

_Why did you destroy the car?_ The car Andrew had stolen. 

_Waste of a question,_ Andrew waves it off. _I was bored. Now, yes or no?_

_yes._

 

******

 

It takes until dinner for Andrew to talk to Will. He has Neil hold their spot in line while he threatens Will’s life. 

“Don’t fuck with Neil anymore. You’re not my boyfriend,” Andrew sneers the word. “This isn’t anything. I find your pointless jealousy disgusting. Leave Neil alone.”

Will scowls, looking a little hurt. Andrew doesn’t care- they had discussed this before Andrew first kissed the kid; it was exploration, not a relationship. 

“Fine. Asshole.” 

Andrew scoffs and walks away. Neil stands in line for the food trays. Everyone is moving slow today. Lunch is fettuccine with rubber chicken that may have actually been some form of ungulate. It smells like feet. A wilted bunch of lettuce for a salad, or some boiled carrots- who even boils carrots? Neil chooses salad. He stops at the desserts and looks at Andrew. 

_Strawberry or chocolate?_ Small squares of strawberry frosted or chocolate frosted cake sit in rows. Another perk of dealing with Neil was the extra desserts. Neil hated sweet things and Andrew was happy to take them, weird dusty taste and all. 

_Chocolate._

They take their seats at the long row of tables. Neil passes his cake to Andrew, who eats the desserts first, as always. Neil eats his pasta like he can’t taste how over salted it is while Andrew drains half his water to compensate for the dry cake. He doesn’t eat anything else, only the little cakes. Neil notices but doesn’t comment. 

“Hey Doe.” Andrew and Neil both turn and Chase laughs. “I heard you got locked in the closet all night. That’s funny, cause you’re a fag. In the closet, get it? It’s similarity.”

Chase cackles. Neil is confused and Andrew is disappointed in the American school system that let an ignorant brute like Chase Trujillo pass beyond fourth grade. 

“You mean simile, and it’s not. It’s ironic. And you are a Neanderthal.” 

“Hey! I’m not fat! You scrawny fucking midgets.” 

What. The actual. Fuck. Andrew was losing brain cells just listening to the guy. “Fuck off. Go find a dictionary.” 

_I don’t think he knows how to read._ Neil quips. Andrew lips quirk up a fraction. 

“You can sleep on it and hope to learn through osmosis.” 

“That’s not how osmosis works,” Chase scoffs. “You need a magician for that. Duh. Who’s stupid now?” 

“Leave. Now.” His idiocy is giving Andrew a headache. 

“Or what, pint size? You gonna bite my ankles?” 

“Or I will beat you to death with a dictionary. Be gone, foul beast. Torment some other poor victims with your ineptitude- or I will go fetch a guard to have you shown back to your seat, as you are so clearly lost.” 

Neil huffs a quick laugh, bumping his shoulder against Andrews. Andrew finds that he doesn’t mind the contact.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG A DOUBLE UPDATE!!! Because I forgot to update yesterday :)

They didn’t talk much on therapy days or nightmare days, even to each other. Mrs Sarah had apparently bullied the center into finding a psychologist that could sign with Neil and neither of the boys were fond of sharing with strangers. Neither of them bother to share in group therapy.

In contrast, Exy days are Neil’s chattiest. They spent a month learning how to relay messages one handed so that they could communicate during a game while holding their racquets. The other team’s players are complaining, trying to get the refs to ban their sign language. 

Neil looks pleased with himself, and Andrew just likes that he can annoy so many people at once and not get in trouble for it. If they didn’t like not understanding, then they could spend three months learning the shit, just like Andrew and Neil had. 

They’re fifteen minutes into the first game, and already a point up on the Wolverines. Neil can hear the other team complaining about Andrew and Neil signing, though the pair have mostly been talking shit. 

Neil’s tail is towering over him, a gawky kid with long thin limbs. Maybe they’re hoping he can keep up with Neil. Fat chance. The Hornets get the ball to Andrew, and he bats it at Neil. Neil runs for it, leaving his tail several paces behind him. He nabs the ball from the air and twists around one of the Wolverine’s dealers. 

“Whore!” She calls at him, just as the ball leaves his net. Neil flinches, his racquet jerking, and the ball flies off course. 

His heart is thundering, more than even his running would excuse. She had sounded like someone else, for a moment. Someone calling him pretty, holding him down and petting him; calling him names and telling him that he likes it. 

Andrew catches Neil’s eye. His racquet is balanced under his armpit. _What was that?_

_Nothing._

The dealers are waiting to get around the Hornets defending Andrew. The Wolverine striker is as close to Andrew as he dares. 

_On your toes, Princess._

Doge knocks his racquet against the Wolverine’s and scoops up the ball when it falls out. Neil goes for it, this time ignoring the girls taunting voice. Garcia gets the ball, but can’t score from before his ten steps are up. He passes to Brown, who passes to Neil. This time he makes the goal, with a buzz and the roaring cheer from the stands. 

Andrew whistles to Neil for his attention. _Not bad, Ariel._

_I don’t know that one._ Neil almost never understands the names Andrew calls him, but he thinks they’re usually in reference to a book or movie character. 

The girl who’s been taunting him shoves him. “Fucking retard!” 

Neil stumbles but doesn’t fall. He scowls, flipping her off with both hands. One of her teammates hold her back when she jumps at him, and the refs whistle the game to another stop. They red carded her off court, and Neil waves at her as she leaves, just to taunt her. 

She stops her replacement on the way out, snagging his jersey and saying something Neil can’t hear. The guy laughs, and the refs bark at them to hurry. Neil’s tail, the tall Asian guy, is pulled by the Wolverine’s coach and replaced with a fresh player. The girl snags him, too. She says something with a smirk, and a nod towards Neil. 

“Let’s go!” The Hornets dealer smacks his racquet on the ground, and Neil and Andrew both follow. Neil doesn’t like the way the two new players are smirking at him. Neil’s new tail settles beside him. 

“I heard you used to be a prostitute. How much for the night? We could use some entertainment for our victory party.” 

Prostitute? His stomach flutters unpleasantly at the insinuation, hitting a little too close to truth. But he glares at the player, not showing them how it makes him break into nervous sweats. Neil lines up for his penalty shot, and the goal glares red. They're almost to halftime and the Hornets are winning by three goals now. 

The dealer passes to Garcia and is intercepted by the rival team. 

“These the only balls you play with, Doe?” 

What the fuck?

Neil ignores him and runs after the ball. Garcia is further down, leaving Neil room to pass if need be. The Hornets own backliners fail to trip up the strikers, so Neil waits impatiently. 

Someone’s stick hits the other too hard, and the ball goes flying out of the net and into the air. Garcia catches it and turns to run, and crashes into the chest of the the Wolverine’s backliner. 

The ball flies again, this time collected by a Wolverine striker. He aims at the goal and scores while Andrew looks bored. 

The halftime buzzer rings, and Andrew whistles to Neil. While they file to the locker rooms. 

The Wolverine that had been harassing Neil takes his helmet off, and moved to stop him.Neil goes to step around him. 

“So you gonna let us stick our racquets in your goal after the game?” The Wolverine winks. 

Neil isn’t a goalie. What was with these guys tonight? He catches up to Andrew, who had paused to watch the interaction. 

_What did they say to you?_

Neil pushes his sweaty bangs out if his eyes. _Nothing. Trash talk._

_Trash talk cost you a goal._

Neil shakes his head. _They want to stick their racquets in my goal? That doesn’t even make sense. You’re the goalie._

Andrew stares. His helmet is off, and his hair is wild because of it. His cheeks aren’t even flushed- he wasn’t the one running all over the court, though. 

_You’re kidding me._ Andrew glares at their rival while the Wolverines dole into the visitors lockers. _I’m gonna break his teeth._

_What is the big deal?_

Andrew gives him an amused glare. “How are you still alive?” 

Neil flips him off. 

“Hey, Neil! Knock it off.” Coach glares at them. “Pay attention.” 

The boys help themselves to cups of water and Gatorade while coach gives them a pep talk. 

The second half is tougher. Andrew is replaced by Plant and Neil and Garcia are replaced with two fresh strikers. While the coaches are preoccupied with the game, a few of the Wolverines leave position to walk to Neil. 

“Hey red! I bet you bend over for the whole team, yeah? You let ‘em score in your goal?” 

Neil doesn’t understand, even what the boy winks at him. Neil is a striker, he doesn’t just _let_ anyone score, in practices or not. Andrew, Plant, and McKale are the goalies. Shouldn’t this dude be bothering them? 

One of the other players smiled wide and not at all friendly. “I heard someone cut your tongue out so they could fuck your mouth better.” 

Neil feels sick. It’s the combination of knives cutting and rape threats that makes Neil want to run. He wants to hit the guy in the face, again and again, until his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. Neil wasn’t a victim anymore, surely not to these incompetent pricks. He’s best at Westshore for months and nobody has touched him. He is trying to forget and move past things but it was hard when a team of loser fucks kept throwing threats in his face. 

The refs bang on the glass and Neil jolts. The wolverines laugh before they settle back into place. The ball bounces between the Hornets and the competition. Neil ignores the jabs from the other plays- more scoring jokes that don’t make sense. A girl tells Neil that he puts the ‘whore’ or ‘Hornet’, and it makes his skin crawl. He’s starting to get jumpy with all these people around him making sexual jokes at his expense. It always starts out as jokes, until it escalates. Michael called him princess for a long time before he actually touched Neil; had bought him ‘pretty’ clothes and things; had kept Neil from eating some days so he didn’t ‘lose his figure’. 

Neil needs his head in the game. When he gets the ball he bolts. The Wolverine tailing him is too close for comfort and Neil can feel his presence like a foreboding shadow. It’s enough to make him forget he’s on an Exy court, wearing layers upon layers of padding and clothes. He’s paying so much attention to the threat behind him that everything else whites out. 

Another player slams into him. The force of the blow slams Neil into the wall. The players momentum makes their crash echo across the court, and Neil’s head snaps into the wall. Their go down, the weight of the wolverine on top of him. 

Pinned down, Neil panics. He wants to tell him to get away, to stop. Hips grind down into him and Neil clamps his lip between his teeth so he doesn’t beg. He tries fighting but he’s weighted down. A man’s voice speaks, calling him awful things; Neil can barely hear it over his own racing heartbeat throbbing in his ears. 

And then the weight is gone. Someone touches his face and Neil shrinks away. They stop touching him. 

“Kid! Neil, c’mon. Open your eyes. You need the stretcher?” 

Neil squints his eyes open. The lights around him are suddenly blinding. He tries to focus on what’s in front of him but his eyes are blurry. Neil Scott’s away from the man and sits up. The court rips around him but it isn’t the garage or the bedroom so it’s fine. There are other teens around him, staring, but none of them are touching him so it’s fine. 

“Easy, easy. Anything hurt?” Neil shakes his head and then hisses from the pain as his brain and eyes give a throb. “Can you stand?” 

Neil stands- and then falls back against the glass. Concussion. He’s had one before, and he doubts this will be his last. It’s probably a mild one; His heart is still racing and the adrenaline from the panic is probably making him feel worse than he should. As if in agreement, his stomach gives a threatening heave when coach offers his hand. 

A head of blonde hair shoves it’s way into view. Andrew. Neil let’s Andrew hold his elbow, allowing his friend to steady him as they walk off court. The nurse is there waiting and they go to her office together. He has to stop to puke in a trash can as they walk down the hall. As suspected, Neil has a concussion. The nurse gives him an ice pack and a couple of painkillers, and sends Neil to shower. He suspects Andrew stands guard outside the locker room doors but he isn’t sure. 

They’re in their room after the game, freshly showered but not ready for sleep. Neil is lying on the bed watching the ceiling spin while Andrew lies in his bunk as he reads. Andrew suddenly puts his book down and sits up. He’s small enough to sit on the bed, despite the upper bunk above his head. 

The lights go out at ten, per usual. Andrew lets his eyes adjust and strains to read through the light that filters through the cracks in door from the lit hallway. 

Neil, in his own bunk, leans over the edge to sign at Andrew. _You’ll make yourself blind if you keep doing that. Glasses would ruin your,_ Neil gestures vaguely, _black look_. 

Andrew signs one handed. _Shut up_. 

Neil sighs and flops back onto the bed, jostling Andrew. One hand drops down to flip Andrew off. Andrew grabs Neil’s hand before the idiot can pull away, and Andrew bends Neil’s finger back until Neil hisses. Andrew drops it and then Neil laughs, of all things. Eventually Andrew gives up squinting to make out the words in the dark, and goes to sleep, absolutely not thinking about Neil’s quiet giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?? You can message me here or on tumblr @booksaboutgay


	9. Chapter 9

Track and field day, a ‘privilege’ for the better behaved teens, is Andrew’s equivalence of what hell must be like. Running relay races in the hot sun; throwing small tubs of water balloons in teams- no squirt guns because they might ‘encourage violence’ in the already troubled teens. There were games of basketball and football but Exy was an inside sport and today was about outside play, or some such bullshit. So the Exy junkie was pouting against the wall beside Andrew, waiting for his turn in the relay race. He kept sighing and pouting, the very picture of teenage petulance. 

_What,_ Andrew signs. _The big kids won't let you play with them?_

Neil flips him the bird but his lips quirk up into a small smile. They’re both bored, already tired of waiting for their turn in whatever miserable activity the supervisors are forcing them to participate in. Andrew and Neil are both too small for basketball or football, and Neil would rather be running laps anyway. Andrew would rather be inside, reading or napping. Neil looks ready to burst with all of his eager energy. It’s nauseating. 

Finally Neil is called forward to try his luck with the hurdles. Neil is the fastest runner at the institution, but his short legs make the hurdles a daunting obstacle. The shorter hurdles are no problem, and Neil has strong legs to vault him over top, but the regular hurdles are hilarity. Neil catches one with his foot and they both topple over. Andrew wishes he had a video of it to post to youtube. His lips quirk up in a slight smirk, the amusement outweighing his boredom. 

Of course Neil pops right back up and shakes it off. He finishes the course and passes the baton and ignores the pain. His team doesn’t win, but this is supposed to be a ‘sportsmanship day’. Something about team building and productivity and the like. 

The idiot comes limping back to where Andrew stands. He wobbles, and Andrew catches his elbow. Knowing Neil, the idiot would injure something else in the fall. The kid was clutzy, as if to make up for the impossible speed and agility. Not to mention those unfairly good looks. At least Andrew can laugh at the idiots minor catastrophes. 

“Nobody likes a wuss,” Andrew chides as Neil glares at the offending limb. 

_I didn’t say anything_ , Neil complains. 

_It was your face._

Neil rolls his eyes. _This is just my face._

_It’s the face of stupidity._

Back in their room at the end of the day, Andrew spends time holding those skinny wrists down and lavishing Neil’s stupid pretty face with harsh kisses. Neil’s lips bruise and burn and it’s okay because Andrew is steady and strong, not rushed or demanding. Andrew asks if he can touch Neil’s back, his stomach, his legs, his ass. Neil strips off his shirt because there is no point in hiding something that Andrew has already seen. 

Andrew’s hands wander as they please. He takes great care in mapping Neil’s scars; from the one in his hand, to the bullet wound on his shoulder and the road rash that scars up Neil’s side stretching up his shoulder and down to his hip to the top of his thigh. Andrew touches them all so carefully, just a brush of warmth against the frayed nerves. Some spots are numb, yet others leave Neil shivering from the sensation. 

In turn, Andrew let’s Neil have free roam of his broad shoulders and strong arms, and down his back. He hasn’t had permission to touch anything below the waist and Neil is careful to comply. What Andrew gives him is enough. Neil doesn’t try pressing for more. He is content to tangle anhand in Andrew’s hair and squeeze those strong shoulders. 

Where Andrew touches, Neil warms. He is content to let Andrew explore, reveling in the pleasure that Andrew brings him. It’s so different than the others that Neil is in awe. There are no unwanted bruises, no undesired touch. Nothing hurts and as the kisses become hotter, the heat fogs Neil’s senses. 

He doesn’t mind being on the bottom of Andrew’s solid weight, the muscles hard from Exy and the weights that Andrew uses almost as often as Neil runs the treadmill. 

Neil’s legs are splayed open to accommodate Andrew between them. The heat had slowly pooled in Neil’s groin but when a brush of thigh grazes him, Neil can’t bite back the gasp. 

Their kisses turn feverish as Andrew teases Neil slowly. Neil fights not to jerk his hips into the pressure in search of the stimulation. He muffles his little noises of pleasure in Andrew’s lips and draws them impossibly closer. 

Andrew’s fingers trace the band of Neil’s sleep pants, and he pauses. He pulls away from Neil, even as Neil follows after Andrew’s lips. They’re both chapped and tingling from the endless kisses, and Andrew tastes Neil on his tongue. 

The little shit takes the opportunity to kiss Andrew’s neck and is pleased with the shiver he incites. Neil grins braudly, kissing his way down Andrew’s throat until the blonde pulls him away. 

_Yes or no?_ Andrew touches the bare skin just above Neil’s pants, stroking the skin there meaningfully. 

This was new. Before this, the boys had restrained themselves to making out on Andrew’s bed, on the floor, or against the walls. They would kiss until they felt heady and drunk with it. It makes Neil pause and consider his limits. He knows Andrew is safe, that his friend wouldn’t hurt him. Andrew had said he refused to be like the men who only took what they wanted and hurt because they could. Neil believed him because Andrew had never given him reason not to. 

Neil wants it. He doesn’t want to stop kissing Andrew, and Neil is still a hormonal teenage boy, if a slightly damaged one. He has wants and right now he wants Andrew to keep going. Part of Neil is still in awe at the pleasure Andrew brings him, and Neil is eager for more. 

_Yes. It’s always yes with you,_ Neil smiles. 

Westshore has done him good, but mostly Andrew has done him good. Neil has regular meals to eat, has a bed in a room that locks and a blonde boy diligently guarding the door. Neil has put on weight and muscle. He doesn’t look like death anymore. And he feels safe here with Andrew. It is novel, to be wanted by Andrew, and to want Andrew in turn. 

_Shut up._

_I didn’t say anything,_ Neil smiles cheekily. 

Andrew pinched an unmarked patch of skin on Neil’s stomach in retaliation. Neil squawks and squirms for a moment before Andrew pulls his idiot into another kiss. 

Strong hands slip below Neil’s underwear, and Neil’s breath hitches at the contact. Andrew strokes him slowly, hesitantly, before pulling him out. Neil’s dick was hard and bright red from his arousal. He shudders as Andrew bends to kiss his lips. 

 

******

 

The game against the Prospectors was supposed to be an easy win- according to Andrew, the Prospectors were a lazy team. And this was the best year that the Hornets ever had. Andrew locked down the goal in exchange for Neil doing his math homework, and Neil could outrun any player in the state. Thanks to the pair of them, the Hornets were 5/5 this season. 

Apparently the Prospectors had changed coaches or restocked their entire lineup or put steroids in the Gatorade or _something_ , because the Hornets were getting bowled over by the violent team. Neil had been caught between the wall and one of the Prospectors larger boys, and had been pulled from the game until his nose stopped bleeding- and until Neil could breathe again. The boy had ‘accidentally’ gotten an elbow under Neil’s helmet and caught him in the mouth and nose. His lips were swollen, but he would be fine if his nose would stop bleeding. 

He watches Andrew bat balls at the players with impressive speed and terrifying accuracy. Andrew was the best goalie in the state; in the nation, Neil would bet. He could make the Ravens, if he wanted to. He could play with Kevin and Riko and go to court…. everything Neil wanted and could not have. 

The balls bounce off of helmets and trip up players at the knees. That, and Andrew’s clumsy one-handed commentary, thanks to the bulky gloves he wore. It’s almost enough to amuse Neil. Still, he would rather be on the court. 

Neil watches as Garcia loses the ball and the Prospectors take it down court. Neil scowls at Garcia’s mistake, but their point lead is enough to cushion the blow; and Andrew is actually trying tonight, and surely he will save Garcia’s fumble. 

Neil watches the Hornets lag behind as the Prospectors race toward goal. Andrew flings the ball back up court and Neil breathes. Pulling away the cloth from his face, Neil sees it come back dry. 

_Put me in_ , Neil pleads, knowing that the coach can’t understand. He bounces on the balls of his feet, muscles still warm and ready to run. He hopes the coach understands. 

“You done bleeding?” Coach asks sagely. 

Neil nods. 

The man calls a timeout, and pulls Garcia, for Neil. Garcia looks tired anyway- Neil thinks he should spend less time at weights, and more on stamina. Neil takes his place on the court and then he’s flying towards the ball when the whistle blows. 

 

******

In line back to their rooms at the end of the day, someone shoves Neil. He stumbles into Andrew, but strong arms keep Neil from falling to the floor. He stands, and someone punches him in the jaw. Neil falls into the wall, his head smacking against the painted brick. A fist in his short drags him back up, holding him in place and hitting him until Neil manages to knock the kid off his feat. 

Neil rolls on top of him and pins his knees to the kids chest and repays the abuse. He keeps swinging until he is pulled away. Around him, Trujillo and Smith are held back and Andrew looks like he wants to rip the throat out of the guard holding him. Whatever Trujillo and Smith had planned, it had been pointless. The four of them wind up grounded in seclusion again, stuck bored in their rooms with only their school books. Their meals are delivered to them by the same guard— Neil recognizes the same man day after day. He brings Neil his books one at a time, as if Neil could turn a pile of books into a weapon; he brings Neil his meals and escorts him to the restroom every few hours. 

Bored and done with class work, Neil naps. _There are hands touching him. They stroke his hair back from his face and pet his cheek. They squeeze his arms and wander down the rest of his body. Neil can’t see their face but he’s been here before._

_Michael likes kissing the back of his neck, leaving slimy spots._

Neil wakes but the kissing continues. The hands are real and they touch him as if they have every right to. Neil jumps away as adrenaline shoots through him. The man- the guard babysitting him- grabs Neil’s wrists and hold them. His bodyweight traps Neil, suffocating him. It feels like drowning. Neil would rather be shot again. He wants to scream but he can’t, he _can’t_. 

The guard grips Neil’s scrawny wrists in one meaty claw, and strokes his hand over Neil’s face. He moves too close to Neil’s mouth, and he bites. But the guard is quick and he moves away before Neil catches flesh. 

He laughs in Neil’s face. “You’re just asking for it, all pretty and quiet. No voice to scream with, and all locked up for me. Not like you’re gonna tell anyone, huh?” 

Neil is frozen. He’s hot and cold and he can’t fucking move. This has to be a dream. Please just be another nightmare, Neil silently begs. The man’s free hand strokes lower, into Neil’s pants to squeeze him. 

A whimper catches in Neil’s throat. He cringes away, trying to melt into the bed and sink away; anything to rid himself of the unwanted touch. Why does this keep happening? Neil doesn’t understand. He has always been able to turn heads and attract unwanted attention. Under his mother’s protection people had stared but nobody had dared to touch him. Without her protection he had turned into nothing. Had he turned into just a body to use? What he wanted meant nothing, because he couldn’t object? 

Neil drops out of his body- that’s how he would describe it. It’s like his brain shuts down. His chest aches and his fingers tingle and then everything goes numb and he just drifts. It’s like being stuck in limbo, alive but not _there_. Not really. 

The last few days in solitary pass by on autopilot. Neil eats when he has to, with slow mechanical movements. He doesn’t get any more school work done. He doesn’t care if he fails everything, he doesn’t even consider it. He just stares blank and numb until the guard takes the book away to replace with another course, again and again until the classes are over. The guard withholds dinner until Neil rolls over. Neil let’s him, drifting back to that white blank place where the body moving on top of him doesn’t matter; where Neil can’t feel the sweat sticking to him or how his body jolts with every thrust. Again and again, until Neil is released from solitary. 

He sees Andrew back at their room at the end of his last day. They’re taken to the cafeteria to eat dinner with the others and Neil can feel the remains of the man sliding down his legs. ‘One last hurrah,’ the guard had said. 

Andrew looks indifferent as usual, and Neil wonders if the guards had touched Andrew too. Neil wants a shower desperately. He takes as long as possible cleaning himself, scrubbing his skin with his nails until the soap bubbles tint pink on his arms and thighs. If Andrew notices the sports of scabs later, he doesn’t mention it. 

Neil huddled in bed under his covers, trying not to feel exposed. He stares at the water spot on the ceiling and lets himself feel lost. 

******

_Neil knows he’s dreaming but he can’t wake up. It’s a confusing mix of hands and knives and everyone’s laughter around him. His mother is there, he thinks, telling him not to open his mouth- sewing his mouth shut and beating him for screaming._

He wakes with a gasp and a hard jolt that has him jumping back into the wall. His bruises twinge. He still has bruises from the guard. He realizes then, that he doesn’t even knows the man’s name. Something about that hits him hard and Neil fixated on that thought, running it on a loop while he shivers in bed. 

He can’t do this. _Fuck_ he really can’t do this. Not again. Yet still, a voice that sounded like his mother tells him that he has to; _Keep running, Abram. You’ve had worse, you’re fine._ he was raised to keep his head down, to be quiet, and to fear older men. 

And yet…. 

 

****** Andrew ******

 

Andrew wakes when Neil jumps from the bed, even if his landing is soft. It’s been several days since they were ungrounded and Neil has been growing increasingly more restless with every passing day. He watches quietly as Neil pulls something out of his shoe- a short piece of wire from the fence, it looks like. Neil picks the lock on the door open and Andrew watches Neil leave. He closes the door behind him and Andrew begins the mental countdown. 

Neil doesn’t return the next morning. Or the next week. Or the week after. Andrew doubts that Neil made it out but he hasn’t gotten a new roommate, so they probably threw Neil into seclusion for a month. Not that the kid would mind- as long as someone remembers to feed him, Neil is probably fairly content to stay by himself. Nobody can shove his head in the toilet or steal his lunch. Well, maybe. Andrew knows how heavy handed the adults are around here, and how annoying Neil can be, without even opening that big mouth of his.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

Neil appears six weeks later, looking as sleepless as ever, if a little gaunt. There are bruises on his wrists that continue up his sleeves and his cheek is dusted with more. Neil doesn’t look like any of it matters, though. He waves to Andrew as the guard lets Neil back into their room. 

“Did you really think you could break out? Don’t you think I already would have, if that were possible?” 

Neil shrugs with a little wince when his throbbing body complain. 

“Was it worth it?” 

_Worth a try_. 

Andrew gives him a flat, unamused look. “You’re stupider than I thought. Do you like people hitting you? Is that your thing?” 

Neil always to manage pissing someone off, a true feat, considering his limitations. He’s always getting smacked around. 

Neil glares and flips Andrew off. He climbs carefully into his bunk and settles with a sigh. Andrew knows from experience how hard the bed in seclusion is. At least one useful thing came from Neil’s misadventure- he knows that Neil can pick locks, an invaluable skill that Andrew wishes to learn. But before he makes a deal with this kid, he needs answers. 

“Okay, enough of this mysterious bullshit. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer. Then you can ask me something. So on and so forth. It’ll be a game,” he adds, mocking. 

Neil looks over the edge of the bed to Andrew below. Andrew had probed on Neil’s past before, but not a demand like this. He can’t tell the truth and put Andrew in danger if his father suddenly finds Neil. 

_Why the sudden interest?_

“Because I sleep in the same room as you and yet I know nothing about you. And apparently you’re sticking around for a while, unless you have a magic trick up your sleeve. Call me paranoid. And because I now know you can be of use to me. I want to know who I’m dealing with.” 

Neil scowls but concedes. If he doesn’t, Andrew will get suspicious. It’s better to get this over with now. He spent years on the run, lying about everything to everyone. He can do the same to Andrew. 

_Why did you run? The truth. Was it the kiss?_

Neil shakes his head. His teeth bite into his bottom lip and he closes his eyes right for a moment. Then his hands begin to move slowly. _It wasn’t you. This guard has been following me. He-_ Neil pauses and clenches his fists. They’re trembling badly and Neil hates this conversation with every part of him. _He likes me._ Neil hopes he doesn’t have to explain further- talking about sex is hard enough, and he hadn’t even wanted it. He hopes Andrew understands. 

_He touches you?_ Andrew demands. 

Neil shrugs but then nods minutely. _It isn’t safe here._ Between the looming threat of his father and the wandering touch of the guard, Neil can’t stay here. _Does he touch you too?_

“No,” Andrew says aloud, his voice low and rough like an old smoker. _Where are you from?_

_Nowhere._ Neil doesn’t know how to say ‘foster care’. _I moved around a lot. Nobody wanted me. I’m too quiet._

 _Foster care?_ Andrew clarifies. Neil looks confused. Sometimes Andrew knows words Neil doesn’t yet. “Foster care.” 

Neil nods. 

_You?_

_Same. I’ve been all around California. Did those scars come from foster parents?_

Neil shakes his head, then stops. He wavers his hand for a _some_. _Why do you play Exy if you hate it so much?_

“Junkie.” Andrew sighs. _Because they tell me to. They think it will burn excess energy or something; like it will tire me out too much to cause trouble. Not that it works. Obviously.” He gives Neil a pointed look. “What brought you here, to good old Westshore. The pinnacle of mental health and safety. What do you to earn this?_

A good lie is based in truth. Neil debates just how much of the truth he should tell Andrew. The charges are on record, of course. With Neil not speaking for his own defense, he had written down a shortened version of the events for his court supplied lawyer and the judge. If Andrew really wanted, he could just read it on Neil’s file. He decides that the truth will gain him more … whatever this is, with Andrew. 

_I stabbed my foster parent with a kitchen knife. He died._ Neil’s hands don’t shake, though he knows they should. A normal boys would. But Neil had grown up around death. Michael Tippet hadn’t even been the first man Neil had killed- no, that had been one of his father’s men, in a hostel in Germany. 

“What did he do?” Andrew's eyes are sharp on him now, judging. 

_He deserved it. Does it matter?_

Andrew hums, considering Neil and how far into his secrets he wants to delve. “No,” he decides. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. If you were the senseless killer type, you would have gotten out of here with a body count last month.” 

_What did you do?_

_Easy- I stole a very expensive car, crashed it and watched it burn until the cops drug me away._

Neil stars at Andrew in disbelief. He cannot imagine why Andrew would do something so reckless without a reason. _Why?_

“Does it matter?” Andrew mocks him in that dry way of his, his expression and tone falling flat and emotionless 

Neil shakes his head. No, he supposed not. If Andrew can allow Neil to keep a few secrets then Andrew should be afforded the same. 

“I want to make a deal. If you teach me how to pick locks, I’ll protect you.”

Andrew is good at keeping the other boys away. They seem to be afraid of Andrew, which is funny considering that Andrew is at least six inches shorter than everyone else here- save for Neil, of course. He must have made a name for himself before Neil got here because everyone knows to leave Andrew alone. It’s worth a shot. 

The teenagers here aren’t nearly the worst people Neil has met- he grew up with the butcher of Baltimore, after all. But that doesn’t make the swirlies and the beatings and the stolen food pleasant. Neil is here until he’s 18. He has three more years here, Andrew has two. By now, everyone knows to leave Andrew alone. Andrew is promising Neil two entire years of relative safety here. 

Andrew may not be able to keep the guard away, but he could protect Neil from the other boys. It would be a small comfort but it was more than Neil was used to. 

_Yes_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first and foremost I am so sorry for the readers that accidentally read the horrible comments that were posted on this and my other fics. All of my works are now only available for members. I’m sorry to all the non-members that genuinely liked my writing but things were getting out of hand with a bunch of non-member commenters and you guys don’t deserve to read that shit and, frankly, neither do I. 
> 
> Also, thank you guys so so much for all the extra positive comments lately :) 
> 
> And a super duper big thank you to WingsOfWaxx, Headbanging-nightrunner, and Fubukiatsuya! You guys are so supportive and great, thank you so much :) 
> 
> So on a better note! Here’s another chapter :)

They play their truth game, taking turns splitting each other open and taking peaks at what goes on inside. Andrew's answers are more angry than not, and often end in Andrew calling it quits and leaving Neil alone for most of the next day. Neil has been known to just run off when Andrew asks about Neil's mother. They set boundaries quickly. Neil doesn't ask about the Spears. Andrew doesn't ask about the Tippet family, or most of what came before. They try to stay out of trouble, for Neil’s sake. Or they try not to get caught, at least. 

Neil teaches Andrew with patience and incentive. They master their door lock first, in only a night. They move onward, practicing on the closet doors, working their way down the halls one by one. 

They get caught by a patrolling guard and they both get grounded for a month. Neil is visibly suffering and Andrew even offers to call it quits until they can figure out what to do about the guard. Neil wants to tell Nurse Alex- they have always been kind to Neil before, maybe they would do something about it. Something to help. They fight about it. 

_You think that telling an adult will do any good? Is your learning curve a horizontal line? They will think you’re lying, or worse- that this is some misunderstanding. They will ground you for being troublesome and wasting their time, and you will be trapped with that sick fuck for another week. Is that what you want?”_

_But Neil just shakes his head and he throws himself into his language book to drown out the screaming in his brain._

_The second time they’re caught they get halfway to the kitchen- the goal, in their new little game. It must have been a camera that spotted them, because the guard comes running. That stunt earns them six weeks. It doesn’t take long to figure out which cameras are functioning and which ones are either broken or neglected. They stop getting caught and they stop getting punished but Neil still looks faded. Stubborn and mouthy, but every time Neil is left alone he returns worse than the time before._

_Soon, Andrew uses the kitchen as his own private sugar supply. He brings back sugary treats like peanut butter crackers with a heavy sprinkling of sugar. Once, Neil catches him coming back with a box of dry chocolate cake mix that Andrew shook straight from the box to his open mouth. Neil uses his skill with more purpose, stealing extra uniforms and a bottle of painkillers._

_It takes them months to figure out the routes between their room and the kitchen, and then it takes Andrew several more careful weeks of exploration to figure out a way to the filing room. Every time they get grounded in solitary Neil comes back more hollow than before. Andrew knows that the guard has been raping Neil but they don’t have a way to stop that, except to stop getting caught. Every time they sneak out Neil becomes more and more anxious. It gets to where Neil stops leaving altogether, letting Andrew roam the building alone. No matter how many times Andrew is grounded, nobody touches him. They smack him around sometimes but they don’t molest him. He must not be their type. Apparently Neil is._

_And because Andrew is a curious and untrusting young man, and he takes the liberty of searching into his roommate’s past. For his own safety, of course; Neil had killed a man, after all. Andrew doesn't want to take the risk._

_Breaking into the records office isn't exactly hard. Andrew has been learning from Neil for more than a month now. Though Neil can pick any lock here in seconds, it takes Andrew a little longer but not much. His skills have been practiced on nearly every lock here. Andrew has spent weeks picking the locks on various storage closets for some privacy, and even to the kitchens once or twice. The records office is no different._

_Andrew only has maybe a half an hour before security comes back around so he doesn't bother looking around. The desk and computer are against the wall, or of view of the door. Files A-E, skipping straight to DOE. He skips by his own name. He already knows what his own file looks like. Grand Theft Auto, destruction of private property, and arson. In other words, Andrew stole an expensive car and lit in on fire, a guaranteed way to send him straight to juvie, and away from Drake. Boring. Neil's file is right behind his._

__Parents: unknown._   
_Age: unknown, estimated about 15._ _

_A year younger than Andrew._

__Charges: assault of a police officer; homicide._ _

__Notes:_   
_Neil Doe charged with homicide after stabbing foster father Michael Tippet. Doe resided at Tippet residence for four (4) weeks before incident._   
_Doe was missing for thirty seven (37) hours following the crime and was found in 1938 Verde Drive, Oakland CA. Residence abandoned._  
Signs of possible abuse. See medical report. _

__-It should be noted that Doe has resided in four (4) foster homes in eight (8) months._   
_-it should be noted that Doe was abandoned at Saint Laurent Hospital, Oakland, CA. Admitted with signs of severe abuse. See medical report._ _

_There are two pages for the medical reports. The first is from Neil's abandonment. It details the multitude of scars marring Neil's entire upper body, malnutrition, severe bruising, a broken clavicle and a bullet wound to the shoulder. Andrew can sense the frustration of the nurse who notes Neil's lack of verbal response. The hospital had seemed to consider this as uncooperative behavior, rather than a form of mutism._

_Andrew wonders if that's when Neil had stopped speaking, or if it had been before that. The hospital notes declare no physical damage to account for it, but Andrew supposed it could be result of a brain injury._

_After that, Neil must have gone into foster care. A sporadic string of visits follow-- a broken nose here, a broken finger or two there. Nothing as severe as before, though it's obvious that Neil received the same types of homes as Andrew had._

_The children with troubled pasts seemed to draw the homes of ‘strict’ foster parents. Abusive, rather. Maybe the social workers thought it would help straighten their attitude problems. Obviously it didn't work._

_The last page is the report Andrew is most interested in. He reads quickly._

_More bruises; a broken nose; stitches to his split lip and eyebrow; a dislocated shoulder. Mild internal bleeding-- fissures._

_That had to have hurt, dealing with the pain while on the run for nearly two days._

_There are no further notes, beyond photocopied doctors notes, scribbled beyond Andrews recognition._

_A manslaughter charge was serious. It explained why Neil was originally placed in E group. But the charges don't exactly add up to the reserved, if mouthy, boy that Andrew knows. Neil can argue with the best of them, if his Exy practices are anything to go by. And he had literally dumped an entire lunch onto some jackass’s shoes, rather than hand his food over._

_But Neil also ran before he fought and fell into a quiet panic when an adult male pays him any sort of attention._

_He closes the files and turns off the computer and locks the door behind him. He slips quietly into bed, but a certain mime is already awake. He turns to Andrew and stares for a long time, trying to guess where Andrew had been. When he gets his fill, Neil turns away. He doesn't sleep._

_*****_

_The new History teacher is a strict man named Dreben, with a military haircut and a special hatred of Neil. He’s taken to having the kid to pushups and crunches and squats when he catches Neil ‘slacking off’ and staring blankly at the wall, or doodling in his notebook, or signing to Andrew under the table at any time. One time last week Neil had frowned at the man and had to do fifty squats for his ‘disrespect’. He doesn’t wince anymore, it’s been a long time since they last got grounded._

_Andrew had first been mildly amused- it wasn’t like Neil wouldn’t rather be running than sitting here at the desk anyway. Until it had become a regular, near daily, thing. Targeting Neil in anyway was unacceptable and Andrew found this particular bit of petty discrimination rather annoying._

_Neil’s insistence on talking during class is also causing Andrew some mix of exasperation, amusement, and slight annoyance._

__What year did custard die?_ Neil was signing ‘custard’ instead of ‘Custer’, the General. _

__1876._ _

__Where?_ Neil must have a different test than Andrew, he doesn’t see that question. _

__Montana._ _

__No, Andrew, where?_ Annoyance flashes on Neil’s face as if Andrew is being purposefully obtuse. _

_Andrew rolls his eyes. He should give Neil the wrong answer but he doesn’t. _Bighorn river_. _

_“Does! Neil, if I see you talking to Andrew one more time, you won’t step foot on court next Friday. Fifty pushups! Andrew, quit antagonizing him or you’ll join him,” Dreben barks._

_Neil sighs and puts down his pencil. He lies between Andrews desk and his own and sets to doing pushups. He would rather do this than be grounded again._

_******_

_Scrimmages end and the official season starts. Westshore’s first game is against one of the local high school’s teams; the beavers. Neil and Andrew are both moved up to the starting lineup. Really, everyone is supposed to get play time but Andrew and Neil are the best, so they get the most time. The rest of the starting line include the dealers Williams and Brown (drug dealing and assault of an officer, respectively), backliners Ford and Doge (both armed robbery) and the other striker Garcia (auto theft). Williams was the captain, and he met the Beaver’s captain in the middle of the court._

_The Beavers uniforms were new- brown and yellow. The yellow and purple Hornets jerseys were frayed and discolored and torn. Neil and Andrew were both in equipment that was probably the first set that Westshore had ever bought. It was scuffed and worn and could probably use a thorough cleaning. But, as if in their own defense, the Hornets won the coin toss._

_Williams gets the ball and passes it off to Brown as quickly as possible. Brown almost misses it but doesn’t, just close enough bat it with the frame of his stick. It flies off wildly and Neil runs for it. Two Beavers are too slow to keep up and Neil passes by them easily. He catches and takes his steps and shoots toward Garcia, who misses- his aim and speed are decent but his catching is in desperate need of improvement._

_The Beavers get the ball again and Neil bolts to keep up with the ball. The Beavers pass between each other Neil sees an opening. He signs to Andrew one handed, _catch_. _

_Neil nabs the ball midair between two Beavers and throws it to Andrew just before one of the backliners tackles Neil into the court floor. Neil can hear his cheap armor squeak complaints but nothing breaks so he shoves the boy off of him and stands. He nods to Coach to continue._

_Doge has caught the ball from Andrew and he slips it into Neil’s net as they pass, hoping to confuse the Beavers backliners. Neil runs and throws and scores the first point. He’s smiling, the little jolt of adrenaline making his muscles feel like arm and loose. He feels like he could play for days._

_Neil laughs later when one of the Beavers gets too close to the goal and Andrew takes a threatening step forward. The Beavers must remember the scary midget goalie from the years before, because the player stumbles back and even gives Andrew a few extra feet between them._

__If you keep scowling maybe we can scare them into surrendering,_ Neil signs quickly during a timeout. One of the Hornets had tackled a Beaver striker pretty hard and it was clear that the striker could no longer play. Two of his teammates were helping him off the court. _

__Shut up junkie. Play your damn game._ _

_Halftime is only a few minutes away and Neil is winded but he doesn’t want Coach to pull him yet. He waves the offer away while they wait for the Beavers to regroup. The Beavers sub striker lands a goal against Andrew, who is leaning against his racquet and looking incredibly bored by the entire situation._

_Thankfully halftime gives Neil a break. He drops gracelessly onto a bench and pushes his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. He’s going to need a haircut soon. His knuckles ache from the bruises but he’s fine. Andrew hands him a cup of water when he walks by and swallows it all before he takes the bags of ice offered to him and sets them on his knuckles._

_The pair catch their breath_

_“You guys are doing good out there keeping the score low- Andrew. Garcia, you’re practicing aim exercises unless you score us two points today. Yost, same goes for you. I’m subbing you out for Neil when we go back out there. I want us to finish strong but for the love of god, don’t send anyone home in an ambulance. Alright? Alright. Get the hell out there and win us a good game.”_

_Coach puts Yost on for Neil but leaves Andrew on. Without Neil to score points he needs defense to stay strong. Yost manager another two points and Garcia one. Andrew blocks most of the goals but isn’t putting in the effort to block all of them._

_Neil listens to Coach cuss out Andrews laziness every time he let a ball through. His frustration is almost comical. Garcia misses another shot and costs them a point that even makes Neil cringe. Andrew lets the seventh ball of the night through and it snaps what’s left of Coach’s temper. He yells at the nearest red for a timeout. “McKale, Doe, get out there.”_

_Neil jumps up, eager to get on the court. Yost shoots Neil a triumphant smile and Garcia looks relieved to be pulled- Neil doesn’t understand what that’s about but Neil is happy to take the spot._

_Andrew signs at Neil as he walks up, his fingers stiff. _Winters,_ the Beaver’s goalie, _has a weak right side. Aim for the upper right side, but not the corner._ Neil gives a parody of Andrew's own salute before the door locks. _

_Yost gets the ball first, snaking between the beavers dealer and the backliner tailing him. He gracelessly passes it over in Neil’s direction before the colossal backliner plowed over him. If Neil hadn’t been busy scoring, he would have flinched. He twists around the Beaver closest to him and has to take a precious second to reorient himself before he throws the ball. It’s just left his net before one of his opponents throws themselves at him. The buzzer flares red the same moment Neil hits the floor. His shoulder takes the brunt of it and it flares hot and then cold and then numbs itself for a few moments from the shock._

_The other player rolls off of him, spitting something insulting that Neil can’t respond to, other than flipping him off. His shoulder gives a loud complaint, burning and throbbing. He must have pulled something but nothing is broken or dislocated and the pain is manageable. He gives a thumbs up to Coach and throws himself back into the game._

_Neil gets the ball from Yost and scores it past the Beavers goalie into the top right corner, just a little to the left. The goalie misjudges and goes to block the corner, too far to the right side, and misses. Someone shoves Neil and he hits the floor hard enough to hurt- and then his vision goes dark._

_He wakes a few moments later- the crowd is screaming and someone is unbuckling the chin strap on his helmet. He allows himself to be helped off the field because he can’t walk on his own- he keeps stumbling to the side and falling._

_Andrew and coach are both waiting for him out the door. His vision of Andrew doubles for a moment before it corrects itself- Neil doesn’t know what he would do if there were two Andrew’s. The world would be doomed._

__You’re an oblivious fool._ Andrew signs slowly for Neil. _

_Neil nods and then hates himself for it. He groans as the world tips again and he stumbles. Thankfully Andrew balances him with a hand in the back of his neck and his shoulder. He allows Andrew to guide him to a bench where one of the nurses inspects him. The light she shines into his eyes burns and makes the nausea worse._

_“You have a concussion- nothing serious, but you’re down for the game. Might as well shower if you want, get ahead of the others.”_

_Andrew hums, considering. Neil doesn’t care. He kind of wants to lay down but he kinda wants to see the rest of the game. Thankfully Andrew decides for him._

_“Come on, junkie. You have time before the final score if you hurry.”_

_Neil wants to relax in the hot water but he hurries to see the final score. Yost or Gannet must have scored because the Hornets win by two points._

_Neil sits and waits while the team showers and the guards and coach do head counts. Then they’re escorted from the court back to the dorms and sent to bed._

_Neil looks exhausted and vaguely sick. Andrew has to watch the idiot climb into his bunk to make sure he doesn’t fall and crack that thick skull of his._

_Neil’s hands drop into Andrew’s view. _Are you awake?_ _

_“Yes.” Andrew answers aloud. Neil leans over the bed Dad enough that Andrew is surprised he hadn’t fallen off._

_Neil’s concussion must be more serious than Andrew thought, because it’s making his tongue loose. Figuratively, of course._

__Do you miss your family?_ _

__No,_ Andrew signs back. _

__Do you miss your home?_ Neil doesn’t know what it was like to have a home- Baltimore was a nightmare but never a home; Marg had never let them stay in one place long enough to set roots, much less a home. And the foster system had been a cruel joke. Was it funny or sad, that the closest thing Neil knew to a home was a juvenile detention center with Andrew? _

__I wouldn’t have gotten caught if I didn’t want to be here._ _

__What are you running from?_ Neil wonders. Sometimes Andrew forgets how quick Neil can be. Of course the runner would recognize running when he saw it. _

__I don’t run. Ever. I’m protecting someone._ Andrew thinks of Aaron, of Drake’s excitement at having both of the twins beneath him. It’s been years but Andrew still remembers how it felt to have Drake hold him down. How much it hurt- how it tore him up inside and out. He couldn’t let that happen to Aaron. _

__Besides me?_ Andrew can see the smirk on Neil’s face. _

__Shut up. Concussions make you even more annoying._ _


	12. Chapter 12

_Mister Dreben is a thorn in Neil’s side._

_“Neil, I need you to stay after to talk about some things. Andrew, you can leave.” Dreben dismisses Andrew with a scowl._

_“I don’t think so.” Andrew has to look to meet the man’s gaze but he stands his ground- firmly between Neil and the man in front of them._

_“Excuse me? This isn’t a public event, Mister Doe. Leave.”_

_“I see the way you look at Neil and I’m not leaving you alone with him.”_

_”You can trust me Andrew. We’re all family here.”_

_Suddenly it’s not Andrew between them- Andrew is outside the barred window, fighting to get in and slowly fading away._

_It is Dreben in front of him now- Mr Tippet- some faceless man Neil down know; they’re blending together in some confusing way that Neil can’t understand. They- he- it- grabs his hair and pulls Neil into a kiss. It bites at his lips and there’s this weird sound and then Neil is let go. He spits something hard out of his mouth- a tooth._

_The thing in front of him has morphed again. It’s his father, smiling down at Neil’s teeth on the ground, bloody and broken._

_‘Bad boy, junior. You know better than to make a mess.’_

_The cleaver shines, the only light around him now. The darkness seems to ooze from Nathan’s body. Neil can’t scream because his mouth is full of something sharp. Neil can’t breathe._

_He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe-_

Neil gasps awake. 

“Maybe if you took the damn pills we could both sleep through an entire night. Wouldn't that be novel?”

Neil lazily drops his hand over the top bunk and flips Andrew the bird. 

Neil is groggy the next day- not talkative but refusing to leave Andrew’s side. They get let out early from their last few classes, for the game against the Bulls. The running is a good way to exhaust Neil’s source of seemingly endless energy. He runs after balls and scores more points than anyone else in the game. He can outmaneuver most of the Bulls and only gets tackled about four times. Six tops. But Neil takes the hits with a practiced hand and rolls with the blows. Still, Andrew takes to aiming the balls at the gaps in the offending players’ armor. Several of the bulls will be limping home tonight. The Hornets win again, by one single point. 

 

******

 

Neil is having another nightmare. Andrew can hear him mumbling in his sleep, scared little sounds a small child might make. 

“Andrew!” Neil gasps, shooting upright in bed. So the little shit can speak. 

“Neil.” 

The bed frame shakes as neil rolls over into his side to look over the edge of the bed. The light from the hallway through the cracks around the door is bright enough that Andrew can see Neil’s face. His blue eyes shine in the dark, though Andrew can’t read the emotion in them. Neil sniffles and shakes his head. 

_Sorry._ His hands are shaking. 

“For waking me? I wasn’t asleep. Or for lying to me?” It’s not that Neil doesn’t speak, not really. It’s that Neil lied to him by omission; it’s the implication that he has something to hide. 

Neil’s hand clenches into a fist, nails biting into his palm. He scowls down at Andrew, in disbelief that _this_ was what he was angry over. Did it matter if Neil didn’t speak aloud? He could communicate just fine. It wasn’t like he was doing this to spite Andrew in some way. Sometimes Neil doesn’t want to talk; sometimes the thought of his voice aloud makes him cringe with the loud ruckus of it. Like the sound of his voice might make him explode.

It had started because Mary hadn’t wanted Neil to talk about anything that might jeopardize his safety. Neil had spoken a few rare times during his stints in foster care- a shy muttering to his social worker about his black and swelling eye, a plea for food when the Danvers wouldn’t feed him. But it had come to a head with Neil begging aloud to _stop, please stop-_ and had been ignored. His words didn’t matter. It didn’t get him any food from the Danvers and it didn’t make Michael Tippet stop touching him. His mother had been right- he only drew more attention to himself with the noise. And so he had stopped. And how dare Andrew act like it was an affront to him, personally? 

Neil unclenches his middle finger from his fist and shows Andrew exactly what he thinks. 

Andrew lashes out, as quick as any snake. He latched onto Neil’s hand and bends his finger backwards dangerously. 

“Enough with the games. Why the act?” Andrew won’t allow Neil to fool him. Andrew is too old to be that naive, and too cautious to let this pass. 

Neil hesitate, his voice caught in his throat like a stone. His finger burns but it won’t be the first time he’s had a finger broken. 

“Tell me now, or I break it.” He would. Neil has seen Andrew beat people up for crossing his lines and Andrew takes his trust very seriously- as in, he trusts no one. And now Neil has fractured whatever trust they had developed. 

“Because.” Neil’s voice is rust from disuse. Like he swallowed nails. “Because it never did any good. Making noise only ever drew attention and got me hurt. Is that satisfying to hear?”

“Why keep up the act now? You’re locked behind bars with me to keep you safe. Why not save us the trouble?” 

“It’s not your turn,” Neil snarks with a little snarl. 

Andrew scowls, considering playing along just for the sake of convenience. Eventually he waves his hand for Neil to continue. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because. You lied by omission even after we made a deal. You obviously don’t trust me. Why would I have reason to trust you, in turn?”

“This wasn’t to- I don’t know, spite you or whatever. I just don't see the point in it. I can communicate fine without all the noise. Speaking never did any good because nobody listened, anyway.”

Neil’s jaw clamps shut against all the things he wants to say. Andrew let’s go of his hand but still stares, daring Neil to continue. 

So Neil continues. “Talking just draws attention I don’t need. It didn’t make the beatings stop. It didn’t make Michael stop. So why bother?” 

“You have issues.” 

_No shit,_ Neil signs with shaking hands. 

“No more lying to me- by omission or otherwise. Or our deal is null and void and you can be a punching bag for the whole group. Test me and see if I give a damn.” 

“I promise,” Neil swears. 

“Why did you say my name?” Neil looks confused so Andrew continues. “When you woke, you said my name. It was kind of hard to miss.” 

Neil sighs. He goes back to ASL, his new comfort zone. _Bad dreams_. 

“About me.” Andrew doesn’t ask. 

_You were hurt._

That’s bullshit. People have nightmares _about_ Andrew. Not _for_ him. “Go to sleep. Quit bothering me.” 

Neil flips him the finger again but obediently rolls over. Bad dreams still plague him but neither of the boys wake that night. 

 

******

The teens that haven’t gotten in trouble lately are allowed to attend the movie nights that Westshore occasionally hosts. Staff sets up a DVD player and projector in one of the larger classrooms and they play something g-rated and family friendly. Before they have played things like Finding Nemo and Wall-E, and several others that Andrew wasn’t qualified to watch. He spent a lot of time fighting his first few years, until most his skills honed and his reputation built so most of the other boys let him be. Tonight’s film was Minions. It must be a follow up to Despicable Me that they played about a month before Neil arrived.

Neil and Andrew are, unfortunately, in one of the front rows. Both would have preferred the back row with the wall safely behind them, closer to the door. But everything at Westshore was alphabetized. 

“Hey, Doe. Andrew. Psst.” The kid behind them leans between Andrew and Neil, not so subtly whispering. “I heard you and the kid got some sort of deal, huh? I’ll give you my desert for a week if you let me fuck your little twink.” 

Andrew grabs the kid by his ear, careful not to draw the attention of the two supervising guards at the door. Neil claps a hand over the reckless kids mouth so he can’t scream but it looks like Andrew is about to tear the kids ear off. It’s bleeding already, and tears and snot drip down over Neil’s hand. 

“Shut the fuck up and sit down or I will tear you apart. Do you hear me, or have I deafened you yet? Don’t waste our time again.” Andrew releases his ear but smacks the kid in the throat so he chokes when he collapses back in his seat. 

The film continues. Andrew’s elbow and knee nudge against Neil’s, but if Andrew didn’t want them touching, then they wouldn’t be. Neil doesn’t mind. This small bit of contact isn’t threatening or suggesting. It’s just warm and kind of nice. 

They’re about halfway done with the film, Neil guesses. It’s boring, obviously made for kids and Neil would rather dose than watch it. His head dips down to his chest. Andrew is watching it vaguely, his mind on other things. Everyone is compelled into a state of complacency by the soft colors of the movie. 

The entirety of the room sort of exploded suddenly into action. Several of the newer boys leap at the guards and several more launched themselves into attacking the rest of the room. Their chairs clatter to the ground in a noisy racket. Neil jerks awake, tense and ready to flee, and allows Andrew to drag him close, both of them instantly on their feet. 

The resulting chaos was a mess of bodies rolling and fighting on the floor with the clicking of tasers in the background. The largest part of the fray was clustered by the door where the guards tangled with the larger, braver boys. Neil and Andrew were out of their seats at the start of the action, back to back and trying to stay out of the way. 

The boy from earlier- his ear still red and tender looking, comes at Neil. Andrew gets between them, startling fast. He knocks the kid out with one well thrown punch, the hours of weight training and boxing put to good use. 

Someone else steps over the unconscious boy and distracts Andrew while someone else tries to get at Andrew’s side. Andrew can handle his own, Neil knows. Andrew fights like a man possessed- or well practiced. He fights dirty, aiming for the vulnerable sides of knees, and throats, and groin to end it quickly. He isn’t even out of breath. 

Neil isn’t the only one who notices. Like the guards, Andrew has been targeted by several boys at once. Neil doesn’t know what grudge they hold against Andrew, but they gang up on him four at a time. Neil can see him taking a few punches but he shakes them off like a man who is used to the pain. 

Neil is fighting with another man, using his small stature and speed to outmaneuver the larger boy. In his peripheral, Neil sees a lanky boy with a fighter's stance and something in his hand. It’s impossible not to notice the familiar stance of a knife fighter. Romero and Lola had practiced plenty on Neil, when he was too young to fight them. He blinks and it’s Romero for a moment. 

Neil ducks around the larger boy charging at him, trying to pin Neil between himself and the wall. He must play football or Exy. But Neil is quicker and smarter and he darts around to the side. One well placed kick uses the boys momentum against him, sending him face first into the wall with a satisfying crunch. 

Andrew doesn’t see the boy with the knife- it’s probably not a knife, not here. More likely is a long screw or a sharp piece of pipe from an appliance in the kitchen; something homemade. It doesn’t matter. 

Neil is used to larger people coming at him with knives. He hadn’t been able to defend himself much, then, but he isn’t eight years old anymore. He grabs one of the folding chairs, knowing better than to simply throw himself at someone that is armed, and sends it flying into the side of the other teen. 

He sprawls onto the ground and Neil stomped on the hand holding the knife. It crunches between his slight weight and the kid screams. 

Neil and Andrew catch each other's eye for a moment and Neil grins, satisfied with his self defense. He sees Andrew’s slight smirk when he glances at the screaming boy at Neil’s feet. Neil picks the weapon off the ground before it can be grabbed and used again. It’s a thin pipe filed sharp on one side. It’s as wide as Neil’s thumb and could have done plenty of damage. It was most likely stolen from the kitchen. Neil wonders how long the teens have been planning this. 

Reinforcements come from down the hall, other guards that had been placed elsewhere. They flood the room and Andrew pulls Neil to him, keeping one hand on the nape of Neil’s back, as if to physically leash him. They freeze and then Andrew’s hand drops and Neil follows suit. He drops the pipe- a shame, it could have come in handy later but there is no way that anyone will make it out of this room without being thoroughly searched. He copies Andrew and they kneel side by side with their hands on their heads. 

They are filed into the hall while others others are drug to the infirmary. They wait for hours while their rooms are all searched for more contraband- Neil worries a little about Andrew’s stash of chocolate bars and the other meager things they had managed to collect on their nightly ventures. 

Their group reduced by about half, the others taken away and thrown either in solitary or a higher security group with the more violent teens. Neil and Andrew are left alone though, and if anyone found their stash of things, nobody punished them for it. 

The guards slowly brought the injured kids to the clinic, and Neil and Andrew are being scene for their bumps and bruises. On the table beside Neil is a tray of bandages and tweezers and things. With the staff working on all of them, it’s easy for Neil to slip the pair of scissors into his clothes. Their scrapes are quickly bandages and they’re escorted out of their room. 

Feeling good from the action, Andrew draws Neil’s attention away from the book. Neil looks happy, if sleepless. Freckles have darkened under his eyes from the few hours they’re let outside in the California sunshine. His eyes are bright and sharp from today’s actions, but his body is relaxed now that they’re safe in their room without repercussions. Neil’s red curls are too long, falling into his eyes and down the back of his neck. He will need a haircut soon but Andrew likes the feel of the soft strands in his palm. 

_Yes or no?_ Andrew asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Neil has learned the subtle nuances to Andrew’s expressions by now. 

Neil smiles, his teeth white, if a little crooked. Everything else about him is stunningly pretty, Andrew would probably die if someone gave Neil braces to fix his only flaw; besides his naivety and stupidity, anyway. But you can’t fix stupid. 

He leans forward and brings his arms around behind his head without Andrew asking, so maybe Neil isn’t _that_ stupid. Andrew keeps one hand on Neil’s arm and grasps the back of his neck with the other so he can pull Neil into another biting kiss. 

Neil melts into it. He’s careful not to touch Andrew, not without permission. But he leans into the little bits of contact that Andrew will allow, taking what he was willing to give and nothing more. 

_You can touch my hair,_ Andrew pulls away to say, and Neil is so slow and careful when he wraps his hands into blonde hair. He’s careful not to tug or pull on a tangle. Neil is so careful, but never second guesses Andrew’s allowances. It’s encouraging, that Neil is so obedient to Andrew’s boundaries while still trusting when Andrew decides to expand those boundaries just the smallest bit. Neil doesn’t take this for granted, doesn’t push for more. 

They kiss with a fever, blistering hot and hard enough to bruise. Andrew kisses like it’s a fight and Neil let’s it encompass him; let’s it swallow him whole as the heat spreads down his neck where Andrew’s lips stray. 

Sharp biting kisses trail down Neil’s neck and he shudders with the pleasure. It isn’t slimy with spit like with the other men. It feels nice- Neil is hit with a wall of surprise when Andrew sucks marks into his skin, tugging the collar of Neil’s shirt down to hide the evidence. Andrew’s teeth scrape a sensitive spot below his throat and Neil’s breath catches with a small noise. 

Andrew pulls away with a concentrated scowl, looking over Neil’s face for any sign of trepidation or discomfort. They don’t dare speak and draw attention to their room in the middle of the night but Andrew breaks them apart to check. 

_Is this okay?_

Neil nods. Lips are swollen and slick from the kisses, his eyes surprised but hopefully not alarmed. 

_Tell me to stop whenever. We aren’t like them, this isn’t one sided. You can stop me. I’ll listen._

Neil can speak if he wants or needs to. Andrew will listen. He won’t be like the men who have hurt them. This has to be different. 

_I know. But I won’t have to._

_Shut up._

Neil’s smile is mischievous. _Make me._

Andrew kisses him quiet, watching and waiting for Neil to hesitate, to stop and pull away. Instead, the idiot leans into him and moves his lips against Andrew’s, letting Andrew slowly lick his way between Neil’s chapped lips. He lets Andrew explore as Neil maps Andrew’s in his own time. 

Neil let’s Andrew straddle his legs. It doesn’t feel suffocating, and Neil is once again thrown by how nice this feels- hot and kind of confusing, but so, so good. He can feel Andrew’s heat on his legs and against his stomach and chest from how close they are. Arousal pools low in his stomach, making his underwear feel tight and confining. He tries to wiggle his way backward so he doesn’t rub against Andrew but the motion seems to draw his attention and Andrew glances down. 

There is a new flint in Andrew’s eye when he catches Neil’s own. Andrew’s hand trails slowly down his chest. He watches Neil’s face intently, cataloguing every response as he flicks over one of Neil’s nipples through his shirt. 

Neil arches into it with a surprised gasp. His hands fist in Andrew’s hair, pulling at the strands unconsciously. Andrew likes the sting, and he takes it as encouragement. Neil’s face is flushed and wanting. Andrew can feel Neil’s arousal against his thigh, and his own dick is straining in its confines. 

_I want to blow you._ Andrew is feeling safe and bold. He hopes Neil feels the same. 

Neil’s flustered brain takes a moment to understand but when it does he nods furiously. He shudders with anticipation when Andrew’s hand dip below the hem of Neil’s pants. His fingers brush against a new scar, raised pink and sensitive against Neil’s pale skin. It’s new enough that Neil would have gotten it here. Anger flares in Andrew. 

He pauses. _What is this from?_

Neil stops. For a moment Andrew thinks he won’t answer. _The guard. It was incentive to ‘be good’_. 

Andrew hums, dismissive. That’s a problem for later. Neil let’s out a gasping noise when Andrew’s fingers brush against him. Neil leans his head back and watches with hooded eyes as Andrew pulls him out of his boxers. He’s hard, his teenage hormones demanding stimulation. The whole length is flushed red, the hood bright and glistening with the first bit of precum. He isn’t big, but he’s eager and his cock stands hard against the coarse red hairs that trail downward. 

_Yes?_ Andrew checks again. Neil nods desperately, one hand moving away from Andrew to sign _yes yes yes_. 

Hands calloused from months of Exy tentatively touch him, stroking Neil slowly. It’s loose at first, a careful and practicing brush of skin on skin. As Andrew gains more confidence, he leans Neil back down to lie flat. Andrew licks slowly, testing both himself and Neil. 

The fingers in his hair tighten but he doesn’t try to shove Andrew down or take control. Andrew is careful to gauge himself, to check that yes, he does want this before he continues. 

Andrew takes Neil in his mouth, the taste of precum thick and cloying on his tongue. But it isn’t bad. Neil freezes, as if overwhelmed, but when Andrew checks, Neil gives him an ok. 

He bobs his head slowly, testing and cataloguing Neil’s reactions. It’s different than when he touches Will or Jamie. He gasps and makes little pleased noises but he doesn’t whine, doesn’t ask for more or tell Andrew to go faster- he lets andrew take command, to set the pace and trusts Andrew to not take things neither of them is willing to give. 

It doesn’t take long to bring Neil to climax. His hand pulls at Andrew’s hair and his breath catches. He groans desperately and Andrew can see his free hand signing shakily. He keeps his pace as the first hot spurts of orgasm splash into Andrew’s mouth. He sucks Neil through it until he’s a trembling mess, before Andrew pulls back. 

Neil’s eyes open slowly and he blinks up at Andrew in awe. His cheeks are flushed nearly as dark as his hair and his eyes are bright with heat. 

He opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to tease his lips still swollen from making out. He tucks himself back in, wincing at the sensitivity. 

_You?_ Neil signs shakily, eyeing Andrew’s bulge meaningfully. 

Andrew is so hard it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t want Neil looking. In fact, Andrew has an issue with allowing himself to cum when someone else is around. But he doesn’t have any other options in this hellhole, not in the middle of the night. 

_Look away._ If Andrew is doing this, he doesn’t want Neil watching. Call it neurotic, Andrew doesn’t care. 

Neil closes his eyes, burying his face in his arms while he catches his breath. He’s careful not to move and Andrew puts more space between them, but doesn’t dare take his eyes off of Neil while he’s exposed. He’s worked up and horny, so it doesn’t take much to push him over the edge. With a few quick strokes he’s cumming into his hand.

Neil stays still until Andrew is dressed in clean underwear and gives him permission to look. He still looks absolutely wrecked, his pupils dilated and his lips parted. His hair is mussed and tangled, looking like fire licking upwards. He looks unfairly attractive and Andrew looks away. He climbs into bed and ignores Neil until the kid is asleep in his own bunk.


	13. Chapter 13

“Doe! Look alive, you have a visitor.” 

One of the guards yells into their room, disturbing Neil from his nap and Andrew’s reading. Neil wakes suddenly with a full-bodied flinch, his eyes flashing open. He surveys the room with practice; door, window, corners of the room, and Andrew snaps his fingers to get Neil’s attention. 

_Breathe,_ Andrew reminds the idiot. 

Something in Neil’s panicked eyes calms when he finally settles his gaze on Andrew. He hates it. 

Andrew stands to leave, and the guard shakes his head. “Both of you.” 

Andrew raises his eyebrows at Neil. _Expecting visitors?_

Neil looks terrified. His blue eyes are wide and his face pales several shades. He shakes his head. He looks at the door again, staring at the guard. Andrew can see him thinking, wondering if he can slip past the guard. As if Neil has anywhere else to go. 

Neil stands, and Andrew follows wordlessly. Neil looks like he’s about to bolt. Or vomit on the guard. That would be amusing. Neil peaks around the corner to the visiting area, as if he can pick out the face. 

“It’s some woman from the state. The woman with the brown hair at table six,” the guard says. 

As if Neil’s gaze hadn’t already settled on her. Even with the hair dye and glasses, the fake beauty marks and outrageous makeup, Neil will always recognize his mother. He allows his shoulders to relax, only a hair. 

_My mother,_ Neil signs to Andrew, who is faithfully standing guard at Neil’s side. 

_The one who gave you up? Or did you run away from her?_

_She isn’t the one I’m running from._

Like that isn’t cryptic. 

Without further ado, Neil walks to the table and sits down stiffly. He shakes the woman’s hand, as if she were a stranger. Andrew senses a big fat lie. 

The woman had lied, had told the staff that she was from the state for a simple check in. And now Neil was following along, acting like a boy who knew how to lie. 

_She isn’t the one I'm running from_. Hmm. The father, then. He must be something, if Neil and his mother were still running from him. Worse than Michael Tippet, the child rapist. He says ‘running’ in the current tense. So Neil hadn’t simply snuck away like most kids their age. He was still running. 

Which raises the question- why would Neil’s mother leave him in Oakland if they were on the run from someone so big and bad. Andrew takes a seat at the table with his own visitor. Uncle Luther is an older man with a stern face and a balding head. Next to him is a mirrored image of Andrew. 

Luther had sent the occasional letter to Andrew, but mostly it had been Aaron. He thought that this family reunion bullshit was over. He wanted Aaron to stay far away from California for a reason. He had been thrilled to hear that Aaron and Tilda had moved across the country; the farther away from Drake, the better. Yet here they were. 

“What a surprise. I hate surprises,” Andrew drawls at Luther. Aaron stares and stares like he can’t believe Andrew is _right there_. 

“Aaron wanted to meet his brother in person and I thought I would examine where you were staying for myself.”

“Hmm, yes. The concern is touching but unnecessary. You’re a little late to play concerned uncle, don’t you think? About, oh, fifteen years too late, I’d say.” 

Aaron makes a pained little noise and he rubs at his face in frustration. “We’re trying to fix things, okay? Why can’t you let us?” Andrew face screws unpleasantly. “No way you would rather be here, right?” 

Andrew wasn’t so sure. He was mostly left alone here anymore, except when he goes out of his way for a fight; the door to his room locks and nobody tries to get in; Neil is annoying but at least good to look at. He is fairly harmless- save for the manslaughter charge, anyway- but he had proven himself useful to Andrew. 

But then again, he hasn’t had a candy bar or ice cream or coffee or a goddamn cigarette in years. Some freedom would be nice. But at what cost, he wonders. He thinks of Neil. 

“You don’t belong here.” Andrew tries. He wants Aaron to get out of California, far away from Drake. 

“And you belong with us,” Luther argues. “I have been speaking with your mother about this. You can come home and we can all practice our forgiveness and move past this unfortunate mistake. I spoke with Cas and Drake Spear, they had good things to say about you.”

Andrew’s shoulders go rigid at that. “Don’t. I don’t want them in my life anymore, do you hear me? You don’t tell them anything about me.”

Luther narrows his eyes, not used to being challenged on what he can and cannot do. “They seemed to be decent people. You could use more people like Cass and Drake in your life. Drake seemed a bright, upstanding young man. Coming home would give you the structure that you need and the Spears are willing to help with that.” 

“You’re not listening to me,” Andrew all but growls. “If you want me to stay, make sure they aren’t in the picture. They won’t do you any good anyway. If I wanted to be there, we wouldn't be here having this nice little chat.” 

“So you want to come home?” Aaron perks up, drinking in Andrew’s reaction. 

“I’ll try,” is as close as Andrew can get because he doesn’t really _want_ anything. Not really. He could use a gallon of ice cream and the spiciest curry he can find. He wouldn't mind a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of decent whiskey. But no, he doesn’t really _want_ anything. In fact, he wants the emptiness, the solitude, of _nothing_. 

“That’s good, Andrew. I’m glad to hear it. Maria and Tilda will be pleased as well.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Don’t expect much. I have two years left on my sentence.” 

“I’ll see if I can talk to a prosecutor or someone about your early release. Be good, Andrew. You have people that care about you and want to see you come home.” 

Aaron takes that as orders to leave. He is reluctant to stand but Luther offers Andrew his hand. 

“Wait.” Luther and Aaron both pause. Andrew looks pointedly at his twin. “Just Luther.”

The old man nods to Aaron. He hangs his head and burrows his hands in his pockets, the very picture of dejection. Andrew ignores it to stare hard at Luther. The stupid man insists on bringing Drake where he isn’t wanted and Andrew simply cannot allow that. For Aaron’s safety. Andrew may already be ruined, but Aaron has a chance. 

“Do not speak with Drake again. He isn’t the ‘upstanding young man’ that you think he is. He’s a pedophile who would love to get his hands on your nephew, and your son too. Don’t let him.” 

“Pedophile?” Luther shakes his head, looking angry. “No, you must be mistake. Drake was a nice young man; very respectful and respectable, too. He’s going into the marines, to serve his country. You grew up in foster care. You must have had a misunderstanding about proper brotherly affection.” 

“A misunderstanding?” Andrew sees red. Why did nobody ever listen to him? Did he have to beat sense into everyone he spoke to? Why did nobody ever believe him? 

“Surely. After your release, I can invite him to the house to meet your family and we can talk about this like good Christians, without such ghastly accusations.” Luther sniffs. 

Andrew lunges over the table, intent on strangling the man. Unfortunately there are guards nearby who drag Andrew away before he can even touch the man. 

“Fuck, Doe, calm down. Calm your ass down or I’ll put you in solitary again. Hear me?” 

Andrew stops struggling but he glares at Luther. “Listen to me or you will regret it,” Andrew swears. 

He lets himself be lead out of the room, past the group of pissed off teenagers, who are angry and disappointed that their visiting hours were being cut short because of Andrew. He doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is Luther’s stupidity and how it might hurt innocent people. He has to banish the thought. Nobody had ever saved Andrew. He was no hero, he had enough trouble watching his own back, not to mention Neil. 

Andrew lets himself be lead away. Neil is filed behind Andrew and they are led back to their room. He jumps when Andrew punches the wall. It’s not nearly as satisfying as hitting Luther or Drake so he manages several hits before Neil throws himself between Andrews fist and the wall. Andrew’s knuckles have split open and they’re bloody. 

“Move,” Andrew orders. He looks murderous but Neil isn’t frightened. He grew up with worse than a few punches, even on the rare chance that Andrew would actually hurt him. Neil shakes his head. 

_Who came to see you?_

_Family,_ Andrew’s lips press together furiously. _An uncle and brother. My twin._

_Twin?_ Neil copies. He hadn’t known Andrew had family. Andrew had told him that he had grown up in the system. Andrew looks unamused, and so he files the thought away to process later. _It didn’t go well, then._

“No shit,” Andrew says aloud. He throws himself into his bunk and takes to glaring at Neil. 

_But isn’t that a good thing? You have family._ Not that Neil would know. Family hardly did him any good. Hell, family was the reason he was so fucked up. 

_A stupid old man and a lonely brother. Watch me rejoice._

_What’s wrong with them?_ Neil looks confused but tense, as if waiting for Andrew to say something horrible. Well, Andrew wouldn’t want to disappoint. And Neil was already convicted of one murder, maybe he could be of more use to Andrew. 

_No. My turn. Who visited you?_

_My mother. She wants to meet me,_ Neil starts. He closes his eyes, shaken. _Tonight. Outside by the fence, near the tree. <_

_You’re going to go._ Andrew accuses. Andrew has no use for a mother who lets her child be tortured by her psychopath husband. And not that Neil has said as much, but Andrew is certain that the abuse wasn’t limited to paternal. Not with the martyr’s hoard of issues. 

Neil nods. 

_Is she going to explain why she abandoned you?_

Neil’s jaw locks closed. He looks at Andrew warily, a look Andrew hasn’t seen since the first weeks they lived together. _She had her reasons_. 

_I don’t trust her._

Neil looks up and catches Andrew’s eyes. _Me neither,_ he admits slowly. 

Neil goes quiet and Andrew lets him. He tries to calm down but the injustice of everything is maddening. He signs just so Neil doesn’t hear how furious he is. It’s Andrew’s turn, after all. 

_Luther wants to bring me to my mother. And as if that weren’t enough, he seems to think that Drake would be helpful to keep around, after. That he would help bring ‘support and structure’._

Neil knows that Andrew doesn’t talk about Cass, Richard or Drake Spear. Andrew is a private person and Neil respects that, but now he listens eagerly for any detail Andrew is willing to share. 

_When I told him that Drake was a pedophile he insisted it was a_ misunderstanding. _That I was lying._. 

Andrew had to spell ‘pedophile’ and so it takes Neil a moment to catch up with what his friend is saying. It feels like a punch to the chest. The air is stuck in his lungs, useless, and Neil fights not to be sick. There was only one way that Andrew would know that with the conviction in his words. 

Andrew sits, waiting quietly and studying Neil’s reaction. Neil nods, unable to look away from his friend. 

_There is more, isn’t there?_ Neil’s hands shake. 

_Drake knows about Aaron. He wants to have us both. I will not let that happen._

This time Neil nods. He understands that nobody deserves to be hurt like that. Not if it can be stopped. _What are you going to do?_

_Drake won’t wait until I’m out. If he can get to Aaron, he will hurt him._

_You have to get out soon,_ Neil guesses. _You have to try for good behavior or parole._

_Luther is going to speak to the prosecutors and the board and whoever else. He wants me out as soon as possible._

_That’s good, Andrew. He can get you out early and you can take care of Aaron._

_And how will you fare when I’m gone?_ Andrew hums. 

Neil shakes his head. _Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Your brother needs you more._

Andrew scowls. _Your turn. Since we're shedding blood._

Neil only has one truth that could balance this out and he’s glad that he can sign it because if he had to speak the words aloud he might throw up. As it is, Andrew watches Neil’s hands shake violently. 

_The man at my last home. He was like that. He-_ Neil has to stop, has to pull at his hair and take a deep shattered breath. _He was just like the guard; like Drake. The last time was in the kitchen. His wife was gone. I was near the knife block._

_You stabbed him._

_I ran. Not far enough, obviously. I was hurt, I was stupid._ Neil shakes his head as if to banish the train of thoughts. _I should have been faster._

Andrew looks at Neil long and hard, appraising the teen before him; the shadows under his eyes and his tense shoulders. The old faded scars that cover most of his upper body, and the newer ones that pepper between them. He thinks about Neil waking up screaming and his apparently selective mutism; and the men in Neil’s life who have taken advantage of his silence. 

_And you expect me to think you can protect yourself?_ Andrew judges Neil with an expression carved of stone. 

_It’s me or Aaron. He’s the reason you got in trouble, isn’t it? You wanted to get caught, to be taken away from the Spears to keep Drake away from your brother._

Andrew narrows his eyes, unimpressed with Neil’s detective work. 

_You should protect him. He’s your brother, I’m nothing._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!

They wait until dark; until the small hours of the morning. Neil must have been waiting for something because he climbs from his bed and kneels before the door, quietly picking the lock with nimble fingers. Andrew follows after him wordlessly. Neil gives him a look. 

_I don’t trust her,_ Andrew repeats. 

Neil heeds the words, only because it was Andrew who had spoken them. But Neil’s want to see his mother overshadows his suspicion and the growing sense of dread. If his mother is here, is it because she misses him and wants him back? Or because he was in danger? 

Neil lets Andrew come. He likes having Andrew at his back, an unwavering support. Together, they snake their way down the maze of hallways like they have done so many times before. Once outside, Neil leads the way to the familiar tree. A shadow moves along the fence. 

“Abram,” a woman hisses, her voice lilted with a British accent. 

Neil opens his mouth, trying to make it work after so many months of sign language with Andrew. It takes a moment. 

“Mom,” Neil cringes at the sound of his own voice. It sounds low and gravelly. Still it echoes far too loud for Neil’s comfort. 

There are no warm words of welcome or fond embrace. There is a smack to Neil’s cheek, hard enough to send him stumbling sideways. He catches himself on the tree and Andrew watches his shoulders slump. He doesn’t make a move to defend himself. Andrew’s fists clench at his sides. 

“What have you done?” Neil’s mother sounds quiet in a way that Andrew has associated with dangerous. “Are you stupid? What are you thinking, bringing him here?” 

“I trust him. He’s my fr- roommate. He helped me.” 

“And now he is a loose end. You know better than this,” the woman hisses. 

“I’m sorry. I trust him,” Neil insists. 

“Well that grand. Lovely. I will deal with that later. Now tell me everything.” 

“That’s a long story.” Neil cringes, knowing how his mother will react. Mary motions for him to continue. “I got caught, and taken into the hospital for the bullet wound. I didn’t say anything, so eventually they put me in foster care. And there was a man- one of the foster fathers; he…” Neil stops. He isn’t sure what to say. He glances at Andrew, as if looking for an easy answer. “He hurt me and I killed him. I wasn’t fast enough to leave, and I was arrested. The court sent me here.” 

Mary’s face darkens. Neil bows his head, waiting for the blow. She raises her hand as if to hit him again but Andrew yanks Neil backward by the back of his shirt. Mary narrows her eyes at the pair of them, judging. She takes the hint and lowers her hand. 

“You sound just like your father.” Her voice is cold. “You know better than to let a little hurt slow you down or get you into trouble. I taught you better than that. You know better than to let your father's temper control you. And now look what’s happened. You’ve landed yourself in jail.” 

“Juvie,” Andrew interrupts, tired of her monologue. 

“Whatever,” she snaps. She turns back to Neil, his head bowed under the weight of her words. “You were supposed to stay safe, not-“ 

“Safe?” Andrew’s blood boils. “You left a fourteen year old boy alone, in the slums of California. With a bullet wound, no less. Is that what you consider safe? Or was it the foster care? Did you think he would be nice and safe there? That he would fine some nice family and you would never have to see him again. See, I think you just didn’t want some teenager causing more trouble for you, once he reached his rebellious phase. You didn’t care that he might get passed off to some pedophile who happened to have credentials. Or did the thought even cross your mind?”

“Andrew-“ Neil tries to intervene. 

“I’ve seen his scars. Every single one. Scars that you allowed to happen because it was easier than protecting your son. This isn’t about keeping him safe and it never has been. This is about your own safety.” 

Mary’s hand strikes out at Andrew, but he catches it easily.

“No. In fact, you are never hitting Neil again. You’ve done quite enough damage already. Between your heavy hand, and the creeps in foster care- at least partially your fault, of course; it looks like Neil is safer with me. Behind locked doors and guards, and away from you.” 

Andrew wrenches her hand away. 

“You have no bloody idea what you’re talking about. You stupid child.” She turns to Neil. Andrew makes sure to be between them. “If I can get in, your father can. And he will not be as kind as I.” 

“Kind,” Andrew scoffs. Neil looks back and forth between them as they argue. “You couldn’t get past the visiting center, remember? Anyone can climb a fence and pick a lock. But Westshore is a big place, with a lot of rooms, cameras, and guards between Neil and anyone else. And it seems that I’ve done a better job of protecting him than you have- look. No bruises, no breaks, no ouches. Mint condition, minus the fickle mutism.” 

“We have bigger problems to worry about than some yank who may have gotten a bit handsy,” Mary sniffs, side eyeing Neil as if appraising him. 

Neil freezes. His breath stops in his chest. _Handsy_ was not what Michael had been. They never stopped at a little touching. They hadn’t just grabbed Neil. They had held him down and hurt him at least as bad as his father had. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

“Handsy.” Andrew voice is cold enough to make Neil shiver. Or maybe that was the ghosts of hands on his backside, spreading Neil apart and leaving him bruised. “Is that what they’re calling rapists now?”

“I left him here to keep himself safe and out of trouble. Everything that happened afterwards was due to his own stupidity. Had he listened to me and not drawn attention to himself, he would have been fine.” 

“You say that word, but I do not think you know what it means. I’ve seen his scars. That is a lot of pain for someone to go through in fourteen years. ‘Fine’ and ‘safe’ are definitely not words that you should be using. After all, you let him be shot and then left him alone in a strange city. That isn’t what I would call A+ parenting.” 

“Stop-,” Neil gasps. “Mom, why are you here?”

“To bring you with me. You can’t stay here, Abram. You are an open target. If I could find you here, so can Nathan. You’ve been here too long.” Mary slides a pointed look to Andrew. “We have to go.” 

“I-“ Neil freezes. 

“No.” Andrew “Neil isn’t leaving. Not with you.” 

Andrew had come to judge for himself if Mary would be someone Andrew could trust Neil to. Andrew would be leaving soon, after all. He needed a way to make sure Neil was safe before he left. Clearly Mary was not an option. 

“Andrew,” Neil pleads. 

Neil knows he should go. But he doesn’t want to. He’s tired of being a target, and here Neil has Exy and Andrew. Neil has reliable meals and a warm bed. But Mary is right. Neil is a target and Andrew is all too likely to get caught in the crossfire. 

“Abram, come with me.” Mary doesn’t raise her voice and she doesn’t need to. Andrew admires that about her. Her cold voice and a face of stone suggests she is used to be listened to and disobeying was not an option. 

“No.” It slips out of Neil’s mouth so sudden and quiet that Neil can hardly hear himself. But Mary turns to him. He can feel Andrew’s hand on the back of his neck, reassuring and steadying. 

She looks like she wants to hit him again but suddenly Andrew is between them, one hand fisted in Neil’s shirt, tethering them together. 

“Bloody fucking hell, Abram! This midget cannot protect you. Not from him. Stop your little rebellion and come with me.” 

Neil shakes his head. Mary moves to grab him and Neil freezes from habit. But Andrew steps between them again, knocked fb her hand aside and staring her down. Her face is cold and impatient and Andrew has limited patience for abuse adults. 

“Leave or I’ll start yelling and have a dozen guards here in a minute. Neil may not like to draw attention but I don’t mind, when it suits my purposes. Think you can drag him away before they get here?” 

Mary’s cool facade hardens to rock. “You’re going to regret this.” With that, the woman is gone. 

Neil watches her leave, his heart stuttering. He doesn’t know if it was regret in his chest, or some sense of loss. Worry, sure. He may never see her again. She’s his mother and he loves her, and despite what Andrew says she had only done what was best for him. Neil knew he hadn’t been the best kid, considering their circumstances; he was mouthy and too pretty for his own good, always drawing unwanted attention to them. All of his punishments had been earned. Andrew may call it abuse, but Neil knows better. She had been teaching him to be strong and smart. 

Sneaking inside was even easier than sneaking out. Neil was a little concerned with how easily they made it back to their room. And after, he expects some questions from Andrew, or a smart ass response, at the very least. But Andrew goes straight to bed, leaving Neil some peace to contemplate what had just happened. And if neither of them get a wink of sleep, it wasn’t necessarily unusual.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THE NEW TAGS!!!! There is an added suicide attempt trigger warning.

AN: The suicide attempt is very short, is marked with one * and is immediately before Andrew’s POV. You can easily skip it if it bothers you :)

 

The guard watches Neil like a hawk circles a mouse. It’s been a while since Neil has been caught doing anything wrong, and Andrew knows this is why the man has been writing Neil up for petty infractions; one for Neil’s failings in Chemistry, and another for back talking. But the final blow comes when the guard does a random search of their room. Andrew’s sweets were hidden with Neil’s extra clothes, painkillers, and bandages. It was all stashed under Andrew’s bottom bunk, in a hole in the mattress. The guard seized the opportunity to punish Neil, and slapped him with two weeks in seclusion. 

A look of bleak defeat has Neil’s face falling. He doesn’t want to go back that room, with its blank walls and the singular bed that he shares with a perverted man that is older than his father. Fuck: he is so tired of being held down and _touched_. 

Andrew is yelling, trying to take the blame and protect Neil. The man ignores him, grabbing Neil and marching him away. Andrew does what he can to stop them; he hits the guard that grabs him and keeps from attacking the man holding Neil. Neil, who is staring desperately at Andrew. He wants to fucking kill the man, fuck the witnesses and consequences. At least the world would be rid of one more pervert. 

_This won’t happen again,_ Andrew swears. 

Neil closes his eyes right and lets himself be lead away. A pang of regret throbs in his chest. He wonders if he should have left with his mother, if Andrew had been the right choice. Before his mom left him, he hadn’t been raped. He had been stared at, sure; he had been stabbed and shot and hurt, but nobody had held him down and taken things that Neil had never wanted to give. He knows that Andrew has been working on a plan to keep the guard away, but it’s been months. Neil isn’t sure he can take this for much longer- hunted and abused and used like he was nothing. Neil was nothing. 

Distantly, wet lips kiss his cheeks and trail down his neck. Neil tries shoving the man away, biting him, scratching. He screams, but nobody is listening. The man lets go of Neil’s ass and covers his throat, his fingers squeezing until Neil sees black spots, and he lies still and complacent. 

And as the man tears at his clothes, Neil let’s his mind wander to far away places, as it often does. 

 

****** 

 

It’s after dinner when Neil is dragged back down the halls. He’s still bleeding and hurting so, so much from their last fuck. He can hardly walk, and the man drags him along. He unlocks Neil’s bedroom door and tosses Neil inside. 

Neil staggers in, catching himself on the wall. Safely inside, his legs buckle and he falls. It hurts, and he hisses from the pain of it. His eyes squeeze closed, as if he can block out the pain, and the wetness between his legs. He sits there, curled on the floor while the world presses in on him. It’s all too close, too much. 

“Breathe.” 

Neil hadn’t noticed Andrew here, but he’s kneeling in front of him, with a gap between them. 

_Don’t touch me,_ Neil signs with hands that shake. He trusts Andrew to respect what he says, and if Andrew touches him, Neil might just break. He feels fragile and hollow like one of those decorative egg shells, or a delicate Christmas bulb. 

“I won’t. You need to breathe.” 

He isn’t breathing? He can’t breathe, there’s a hand on his throat choking him and keeping him from fighting or screaming. No- that’s not right. He’s gone. It’s just Andrew. 

_Help,_ Neil asks. The floor hurts his bruises and he is so tired. He doesn’t know the word for please, he and Andrew had never learned that one. 

He opens his eyes. Andrew is staring at him unblinking. Slowly Neil rubs at his neck. There’s nothing there, he can breathe. Finally he takes a shuddering inhale. 

Andrew helps him stand but it fucking hurts. Neil bites his lips but he can’t help the groan of pain. Everything hurts- the bruises on his throat and body. Andrew practically carries Neil to the bed and sets him on Andrew’s bunk with a hiss. 

_Clothes?_ Neil feels slimy and disgusting. He kind of wants to claw his own skin off. He wants desperately to shower but it’s too late for that. He will have to settle for a clean change of clothes. Andrew brings them over and Neil tries to pull his shirt off but he can only get about halfway before it hurts too much. 

_Stop it, martyr._ Andrew stops him, looking impatient. _Let me help,_. 

Neil nods. 

He’s a fucking mess. He’s bruised all over his shoulders and down his arms; his thighs and hips are black with it. He’s still bleeding, Andrew can see it. 

He turns away, unable to hide it and yet unwilling to hurt Neil in his rage. He hits the painted brick, but he wants something to _break_. He wants to destroy something, to feel is crush under his rage and ruin. His hand breaks before the brick does, but the pain isn’t as satisfying as it used to be. 

Andrew is lost in his rage, he can’t see Neil signing desperately, now dressed in clean clothes. 

“Andrew,” Neil says quietly, barely even understandable with the abused rasp of his throat. 

But still Andrew hears it, and he whips around with a glare. His nostrils flare and his fists are clenched at his side, his knuckles split and bleeding. 

“What?” He snaps. Neil doesn’t flinch, he knows Andrew wouldn’t hurt him. 

_You’re going to hurt yourself._

Andrew scoffs. As if Neil could fucking talk, looking like some kind of doe-eyed victim, still bleeding and trembling from his abuse. 

“Shut up.” Andrew paces, looking vicious and pissed. 

Neil hesitated. He knows Andrew doesn’t like the idea, but he wants to tell someone. He doesn’t think he can do this anymore. He hurts so much, inside and out, and he feels so small now. He thinks he’ll die if this doesn’t stop. He needs a way out, but he can’t run. Maybe he should have gone with his mother. But no, something in him _needs_ Andrew more than he needs Mary. He needs Andrew’s hard kisses and soft touches and biting humor and understanding. 

_I want to talk to Alex. They can help._

“Yeah, help lock you up again for wasting their time. Don’t be fucking naive.”

 _I don’t can’t do this anymore,_ Neil tries to get Andrew to understand. He’s seen the scars on his friends wrists. Andrew had to understand. 

“You have to,” Andrew says, his voice flat and dead. “It sucks, but it will be worse if you cause trouble. They’ll just ground you more and you’ll be back in his hands. You let me take care of it. Or don’t you trust me?” 

Neil bites his lip. He does trust Andrew, and Neil thinks that he may be right. His mom had taught him the same thing, had beat the lesson into him- not to cause a fuss, to just be quiet and blend in and keep moving. But Neil can’t run now. And he can’t keep being locked away with that pervert. 

Neil is helped onto his own bunk; Andrew is afraid of heights. He lies there awake until long after Andrew is asleep below. He moves slowly, careful not to wake him, and sits up. In the stuffing of his pillow is the scissors he had stolen from Nurse Alex. 

*

He bites his lip as he opens them up as wide as possible, and he grips the blade against the handle. He drags it across his skin, cutting himself from elbow to wrist on one long cut. The next cut on his opposite arm is deeper. It burns and throbs, but he’s already hurting all over and this is just one more pain to the mass. 

Neil sits quietly and closes his eyes. 

*

***** Andrew ******

Andrew wakes from a bad dream, feeling nauseous with the sour adrenaline. He swings at ghosts but nobody is here to hurt him. Just Neil, who is probably awake now, if he was even asleep before. Andrew waits for another smart quip, or worse- Neil’s _concern_ ; but there’s nothing. 

Andrew leans over to look, but Neil is still. In the darkness Andrew can see something dark shining in the dim light from around the door. Andrew’s heart stops. It’s blood. He can smell it now, faint and coppery. 

“Fuck!” Andrew’s brain kicks into overdrive. 

He knows Neil needs pressure on the wounds. He’s bled a lot, and he needs pressure on the wounds. Andrew hurries to wrap the sheet tightly around the sounds, but Andrew can’t hold the pressure on- he needs to call for help. 

The door bangs under Andrew’s fists as he tries to get the guards attention. He hits the door over and over but he is ignored.

“Get the nurse,” Andrew yells, hoping to get someone’s attention. “There’s a kid fucking bleeding out in here!” 

The guard that unlocks the door is pudgy and soft eyed; he’s new, Andrew bets he won’t last a month. 

“Help me get him to the clinic,” Andrew growls between clenched teeth. He hates seeing Neil limp and unresponsive. He looks dead, sagging in the man’s arms. Andrew holds the sheets balled tightly against Neil’s wrists. He holds the pressure and they hurry and stumble along to the clinic. Nurse Alex, the head resident doctor, is asleep but they wake and run to the door still in their pajamas and sleep mask. They take a single look at Neil, his face shockingly pale against his bright hair and the bloodied sheets beneath Andrew’s hands and they usher the men inside. 

Neil doesn’t move even after he is laid on the bed. Alex sends the guard to wake the other resident nurse and they start to work on Neil, regardless of the blood ruining their pajamas. 

The guard returns and tries to usher Andrew away while the professionals do their work. Fucking Neil- what the fuck had he been thinking? That death would be better than this? That he didn’t matter, so why not just end it and stop the pain now? Andrew has been there, he has; he had hurt himself just to feel real, or to distract from other pains. But Fuck, Neil had done his best not to come back from this. And he had almost succeeded. He had nearly bled to death with Andrew fucking sleeping only a few feet away. 

God fucking damn it. Andrew had promised Neil protection, and the idiot had tried to off himself rather than wait for Andrew to get his act together. He would not be making the mistake again. No more hesitation, Andrew will do what needs to be done. And he won’t let that fuck touch Neil again. Nobody will ever touch him again, not as long as Andrew can help it. A voice in the back of his head whispers, _’if Neil even makes it,_ ’. 

 

****** Neil ******

Neil does make it. He wakes up with a heart monitor and an IV, and bandages from elbow to wrist. He’s Velcroed down so he can’t move his arms. He stares at them for a long time, thinking there must be some sort of irony in there somewhere; that he had tried to run permanently, only to wind up cuffed to another bed. 

It’s plastic. Neil isn’t in the clinic, he doesn’t think, and he isn’t in his room. The mattress is plastic, and the walls are blank and windowless, and there are no sheets or blankets or pillows. He wonders if he’s back in seclusion. Andrew said they would just ground him again- is that what this is? 

Someone had redressed him. Neil is in a flimsy paper gown that doesn’t cover nearly as much as he would like. He isn’t covered in blood like he thinks he should be. He had cut pretty deep. Obviously he had passed out and was brought to the clinic. He realizes that Andrew must have found him, and he feels the pain of guilt. He knew that Andrew would find him, but Neil had hoped it would be in the morning, after Neil was already gone. Now that he’s not dead, he doesn’t know what to think. He’s tired, so he sleeps instead of whatever the hell this is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not even sorry.... but what did you think?? We’re almost to the end!!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are speeding up!

Neil is held for three days before they let him go. Three days is the minimum, Nurse Alex tells him in a soft voice. He didn’t argue- three days of staring at the blank white walls had driven him out of his mind. 

He was forbidden to enter the gym for a week, and even then only leg exercises. Anything else could pull his stitches. 52 total. They had been long, but not particularly deep. He also had a dozen more on his fingers and palm from holding the opposite blade as he had cut. He still isn’t sure how he feels about all of this. These last three days have passed like a monotonous buzz in his head, like starting into the outside world and only seeing a snowy television screen. 

But he was going back to his room, escorted by yet another new guard. There had been a lot of turnover lately. Andrew isn’t in his room. He’s probably showering or eating dinner, depending on the time. Neil had done both earlier, so Alex could dress his bandages afterward. 

Neil climbs carefully into his bunk, ignoring the itch on his arms from where the stitches pull. He grabs his book and lies down and pretends to read, staring blankly at the page and not understanding the words. Andrew comes in and Neil looks up, but neither of them say anything. Andrew throws himself into his own bunk and ignores Neil’s miraculous return. 

****** 

Luther comes to visit again. He brings Aaron with him, and he stares at Andrew again. Luther has with him a meticulous file folder, which he passes to Andrew. 

“They’re adoption papers. Your mother wants you to come home.”

“Too little too late,” Andrew snips. “Why now? She didn’t want me the last fifteen years. What changed?”

“It’s time you came home. I’ve taken the liberty of contacting your judge, and Westshore’s board. They have all agreed that you have been doing well since our last visit. And although it took some effort to convince them, they are willing to shorten your sentence to three months, provided you are released to us and you are not involved in any unsavory incidents.” 

Andrew doesn’t miss that Luther was the one to draw the papers, Luther had made the necessary phone calls and pulled the strings. Mary had only signed on the lines, her signature shakey and sloppy like a drunk’s. 

Three months wasn’t much time. Andrew isn’t sure if he wants to go or not, but it looked like he had no choice. 

“And on top are the papers for your name change. Andrew Joseph Minyard.” 

_Andrew Joseph Spear_ he remembers. He had always wanted a name; a place to belong and people that wanted him. This wasn’t that, he was sure. After all, it wasn’t Tilda here visiting. He had never seen the woman, and he didn’t want to. So far Luther was nearly unbearable and Aaron was a poster child for child abuse, withdrawn and sullen and not even bothering to cover the bruises on his arms. But still, it would allow him more freedom than Westshore and he wouldn’t be locked away for three more years. And Andrew had a brother he was willing to get to know. 

“Oh goodie, I get a name now. I’ll have to get used to someone not calling me Doe.”

Luther scowls at him, his face turning a beet color. Aaron flinches. He glowers at Andrew, as if Andrew doesn’t see that shit daily. 

“Do you even want to come home? We spent a lot of money to come visit you, and when we do you just sit there and glare at us.”

“Aaron,” Luther chides. 

A year ago he would have signed the papers without even reading them. But now he has Neil and a promise to keep. A pretty martyr with a magnetism for trouble, and a promise to protect him. He’s tempted to throw it all away, he doesn’t want to make the same mistake in leaving Neil vulnerable. But this is something he will have to consider well before deciding. He takes the papers. 

He stands and leaves. Neil is back, still lying quietly on his bed like he usually is. Andrew can’t tell if Neil is mad at him, or if he’s sulking, or if he’s just waiting for the next opportunity to kill himself. Well, there is one way to find out. 

“Tilda wants me back. Luther probably Christian-guilted her into it, but they’re serious. There are adoption papers and shit I have to sign.”

Neil puts the book down- a notebook. He’s writing something apparently. Maybe for all the classes he missed. 

_When are you leaving?_ Neil looks resigned. His blue eyes are blank and cold in a way that Andrew used to recognize in the mirror every day. 

_Three months, if I sign these._

_Good. You deserve a family. A good one this time._

Andrew doesn’t know about ‘deserve’, the world is an unjust place and Andrew is usually at the butt of its cruel jokes. _We have a deal, martyr. I’m not leaving you here with him._

_Him_ being the nameless guard that has made a habit harassing Neil. 

_You don’t have a choice_. 

Andrew shakes his head. _Uncle Luther is trying to get me on early release. They won’t do that if I give them a reason not to._

Neil pauses. Andrew would sabotage his own escape just because of some stupid promise they made over a year ago? After they had fought and Neil had tried to kill himself, how could Andrew make himself stay for him? Neil was nothing. 

The boy shakes his head. _You should go. If you have the chance to leave this place, you should._

_Don’t be stupid. Im not leaving you here alone to commit suicide._

_I told Nurse Alex,_ Neil signs slowly. _They weren’t mad at me. They said they would help. There was…. evidence._

_And what about Smith or Trujillo or the next new guard that thinks you’ll make a pretty victim? I won’t break our deal._

_Andrew, you have to. You’ve been protecting your brother for so long already. Don’t worry about me when you leave here. You have a chance to have a family. Take it._

_Renegotiate with me. I teach you to protect yourself while I’m gone. At least you won’t be a sitting duck while I’m gone._

Neil waves it off. He knows how to fight, he just isn’t as good at is as Andrew. They had fought together in the yard, in the hallways, during the riot. Andrew knows this. Neil isn’t worried about himself, he’s a dead boy. But Andrew has a chance, and Neil doesn’t want him to be stuck somewhere with no way out, if Andrew’s family turns out to be anything like the other homes. 

_There’s a stash of cash- it’s small, only a couple hundred. Go to 108 South Clover lane. In the backyard there is a large boulder. Behind the boulder is a scarred tree. There’s a mints tin hidden inside, with money. If you need it, take it._   
Neil won’t need it anyway- by the time he’s 18 and free of Westshore it’s likely that his father will have found him, just waiting for an opportunity to grab him. Neil will be dead before he’s able to use that money. There’s only a couple hundred there- enough for a train or bus ticket and a cheap hotel room if his friend needs. 

Andrew is thrown by Neil’s offer. _I’ll come back for you. I swear._

It’s Neil’s turn to be thrown. _I’m nothing. You should forget about me and be happy_. 

_Bullshit. We still have three months. We will think of something._

_So,_ Neil pauses, his fingers hesitantly taking shape. _We’re ok?_

“No,” Andrew says aloud. “And if you ever try that shit again I will kill you.” 

Neil can’t die, not on Andrew’s watch. 

_I’m sorry._

_No you’re not. But you will be if you ever do something that stupid again._

Neil nods. With the guard- King was his name, Alex told him. With King gone, Neil will be fine. He can take bullies and pain. What he can’t take is someone touching him and using him. 

_Can I kiss you?_ Neil knows that Andrew is safe. He trusts his friend with every part of him. And now he wants the soft reassurance and affection that Andrew can give him. 

_Don’t push yourself._

_I’m not,_ Neil insists. _You’re different. You’re not them. You’re better._

_I hate you._


	17. Chapter 17

_Want to learn how to pickpocket?_

Neil is bored, not tired and sick of reading his book. They have mastered the lock picking, and Andrew had asked Neil to show him how to pickpocket. His sugar stash was running low and the only candy bars had to be bought. As wards of the state, Neil and Andrew of course had none. Now that Neil’s threat was gone, they could spare the risk of learning a new and valuable skill. 

They started in their room. Neil puts a pen or something small in his back pocket. 

_Okay, be quick, distraction is easy for a beginner but it’s better not to let them see you at all. Ideally, in a crowd._

_Like the yard or the cafeteria._ Andrew clarifies. Neil nods. 

Neil pretends to be reading his book, pretending to be distracted. He can feel Andrew’s presence behind him, can feel the graze of his fingers against Neil’s backside. 

Neil buzzed between his teeth like the operation game guy. Andrew pinched his side. 

_Funny._

Neil smiles. _You could try walking past and brushing by me. It works well in crowds._

Andrew nods and twirls his finger for Neil to turn around. 

This time it’s Andrew’s shoulder against his back, and his hip brush against Neil’s backside. It would have been less suspicious in a crowd, but Neil hadn’t felt the pen leave his pocket so it’s a start. 

_Better,_ Neil allows. Andrew flicks the pen at him. 

Neil watches Andrew close the small space between them, stopping with their chests only a breath apart. Neil smiles in anticipation; he recognizes the heat on Andrew’s eyes for what it is. Andrew likes learning the things he deems useful and he likes the control it gives him. What’s more, he likes the control that Neil allows him to have whenever they do this. Whatever _this_ is. This blurring line between kissing and fondling, and their deal. 

Like now, how Neil is staring at Andrew with this look of trust and irrational awe. His gaze flicking all over Andrew’s features as if unwilling to settle. 

“Stop staring,” Andrew whispers. He doesn’t need some martyr looking at him like he’s some sort of answer to his problems. Andrew has done nothing to earn such a look, despite their little deals; despite Andrew’s attempts to teach the idiot how to fight instead of run. 

_Make me,_ Neil mouths, his smile crooked and teasing and ridiculous. 

Andrew narrows his eyes at him. He swats a hand at Neil’s cheek, a parody of a punch which Neil avoids neatly. Neil’s tongue pokes out between his teeth as he teases Andrew with a ‘come and get me’ motion. 

He is obliged to accept the challenge. Andrew swings another fist, faster than the last. Neil blocks with his forearm and jabs a fist into Andrew’s unprotected side. It doesn’t hurt, they’re careful not to use force so they don’t get caught from the noises of an actual fight. 

Andrew grabs him and pulls him close, one hand wrapping threateningly around the boy’s throat and the other fisting in his shirt. Neil’s smile doesn’t waver and there is no fear on his face. He brings a hand up to Andrew’s but he lets it hover there, almost touching but not, waiting for permission. Not wanting to miss his cue, Andrew presses his lips to Neil’s. 

The kissing is nice. More than nice, actually. These last months have been stressful, with Neil being terrorized. But the more recent months after King’s abuse had ended, and the man arrested, has Neil feeling more human than he has in a very long time. It had been a quiet affair, really; Neil had enough evidence on him, _in him_ , to charge the man without much hassle. Neil has been given extra therapy, as if that would help. He never talks to his therapist. 

And when Neil wakes from twisted nightmares, Andrew’s tough love reminds Neil that he isn’t property, that he isn’t something to use. It takes time and more patience than either young man has; their tempers had snapped more than once but they are careful not to deliver killing blows. 

They kiss until their lips are tingling and swollen, and they can feel each others arousals pressing against the confines of their pants, nudging against the hip of the other. 

Neil let’s Andrew lead them to the bed, rather than makeout on the floor. They have both been hesitant to venture beyond the kissing, but here they are on Andrew’s bunk. Andrew with his back to the wall, leaning over Neil but not on top of him. Their legs have tangled together in the blanket. Neil’s cold toes are curled against Andrew calves but Andrew can’t find the will to care. He’s pretty distracted at the moment. 

He slips a thigh between Neil’s own, Neil’s legs parting eagerly and a moan catching in his throat when his erection brushes against it. Neil pauses and starts to move away, afraid that he was pushing unwanted contact onto Andrew. The idiot. Andrew nudges his leg further upward and Neil relaxes when he understands that he has permission. 

With a breathy noise he grinds down onto Andrew’s leg. Andrew’s hand slips down between to cup and stroke himself through the fabric of his pants. After a moment he stops, only to sign to Neil. It wouldn’t do to be loud now, in case they draw attention to their room. He doesn’t want to be interrupted now, and surely Neil shares the sentiment. 

_You can touch me. Above the waist._

Neil latches his hands from the sheets to Andrew’s braid shoulders. He remembers how easily Andrew had bench pressed him to win that bet so long ago. He knows just how strong Andrew is, and he isn’t scared. 

He lavishes Andrew with kisses and gropes the strong chest beneath his palm. He can feel Andrew’s muscles flex as he moves, leaning forward to kiss at Neil’s neck. He knows that Neil doesn’t like having his shirt off, but he doesn’t mind Andrew’s hands gently brushing over the scars. He knows all of them by now; Andrew knows the shape and origin of every scar on Neil’s body, and they are plentiful. He wants to kill the people who had put them there, but for this moment he is content to just feel Neil safe and eager beside him. Squirming beneath his touch though he is obviously trying to stay still. Andrew can appreciate the enthusiasm, at least. 

One of Neil’s nipples chafes under the scratchy calluses on Andrew’s hands. He revels in the needy sound Neil makes, and in the rumble beneath his palm. Neil presses up into Andrew’s hand, wordlessly asking for more. Andrew rolls the bud between his fingers, his other hand cupping Neil’s neck. 

Andrew notices when Neil’s kisses begin to border on desperate. His face and neck are flushed, and his chest is moving with deep, excited breath. 

“Be my first,” Neil whispers in that unreliable voice of his. 

“Neither of us are virgins.”

“They don’t count,” Neil says quickly. Andrew knows that ‘they’ means King and Michael and Drake, and anyone else who had touched without permission. “That was all on them, not me. I want to know that it can be good.” 

Andrew scowls down at him. _You’re pushing._

Neil shakes his head. _I trust you._

Neil kisses Andrew’s neck once, as if to seal the words with a kiss like something out of a Grimm story. It’s ridiculous. But then he lies back and let’s Andrew hover over him, waiting for Andrew to decide what he wants. 

Andrew catches Neil’s eyes and holds his gaze as he speaks. “You fucking tell me to stop. If you change your mind, or if it hurts, or anything at all, tell me. Push me away or tell me no or anything else. I’ll stop.” 

_I promise,_ Neil motions. 

“You stop if I tell you to.” 

Neil nods vigorously. He would never do that to Andrew, and they both know it. It’s the reason why they are both here, tangled together in clothes and sheets, so close that their breath mingled together. 

Andrew’s weight is heavy, but not unmovable on top of him. It’s grounding to have Andrew all around him, pressed close. He kisses Neil with renewed fervor, biting his swollen lips and drawing a gasp from the boy beneath him. 

 

******

 

Three months passed like mere weeks. Neil tells himself that it will be fine, but it isn’t himself that he is worried for. It’s Andrew heading into unknown territory, and it feels like he’s going behind enemy lines. 

_I can stay,_ Andrew offers.

Luther and Aaron visited again, and this time his twin looked almost eager to see him. Andrew wonders if that is what the emotion would look like on his own face, but it doesn’t matter. 

_No,_ Neil practically stomps his foot. He wants Andrew to stay, and if he keeps offering then Neil is afraid he will say yes. But Andrew deserves more than this place. _You have a brother that needs you._

Aaron had bruises when he visited. More prominent than the times before. Andrew did not have to ask where they came from. Even Andrew, a problematic child since birth, didn’t get into so many schoolyard fights that he had that many fading bruises. No, those came from regular abuse. Andrew knew better. It seems he was a magnet for martyrs, first Neil and now Aaron. What was his life becoming? Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends? 

_It won’t take you a week to get into a fight, you mouthy little shit._

Neil’s mouth flattens into a line. He looks unamused. _Takes one to know one. And anyway, that’s why you taught me to fight._

It was good to know that Neil stood a chance at defending himself. Andrew thinks that Mary must have relied too heavily on guns and running. Neil was a rabbit ready to bolt, but at least he had some sharp teeth now. Nobody had been staring and giving him looks- in fact, since the staff found out about King, the teachers had even been more kind to Neil. That had been a surprise, and Andrew and Neil both had been suspicious of. But it’s been months now, and nobody has cornered Neil or harassed him about it. Nurse Alex had done their job, to Andrew’s surprise. 

_You better still be alive the next time I see you. I will not visit your fucking grave._ Andrew runs his finger over the scar on Neil’s wrist. 

Neil nods, solemn. 

The guard escorting Andrew is getting impatient. Neil wants one last kiss goodbye but he refrains. 

_108 South Clover Lane. Remember, if you need it._

_This isn’t goodbye,_ Andrew promises.

Neil nods again, but he knows that it is. His mother is gone, and Neil is stuck here. His father will find him eventually, even if he waits until Neil is released. And when Nathan finds him, he won’t let Neil love. He won’t see Andrew again, he knows. But what they had was enough, he thinks. 

Andrew walks away, and Neil watches him go. Andrew doesn’t look back.


	18. Chapter 18

The Hornets lose to the Jellyfish. And really, Neil is embarrassed that they lost to a team called the _Jellyfish_. They lose by two points, goals that Andrew would have been able to block. McKale and Plant are glad for the game time, but they just aren’t in the same league as Andrew. 

Still, Neil’s teammates and coach are thrilled with their win-to-loss ratio. 

“This is so much better than last year! You don’t even know, man.” 

Neil does know. He had been here at the end of last year’s season, but he had not been cleared to play yet. Not for the Hornets, anyway; first he had been in too governed in a more restricted group, and then he hadn’t been cleared to play with his injured hand. He was still bitter about that, taken down by a pencil. 

“Last year,” Plant continued. “Last year we only won four games. We kicked ass-“

“Language!” Coach scorns. 

“-butt this year! Thanks to you and Andrew. Even if he didn’t give a shit, but whatever.”

“I swear, Plant- one more and you’re out.” 

“Sorry, Coach.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry. 

Neil doesn’t understand how they can all be so happy with a loss. They were so close to finals, Neil was sorry to see it go. Of course, there would still be practice and scrimmages with the other groups, but no more games. He still gets to play, that’s something. But they had been so, so close. 

The team showers and Neil tries to stall as much as he can. They prepare to leave, and everyone is starving. Hopefully it won’t be an egg-substitute, breakfast-for-dinner night because Neil’s stomach is growling. He helps himself to a cup of Gatorade when he’s finished showering, his hair still dripping. 

“Doe, come with me.” 

Coach ushers Neil into his office. Neil puts the cup down on a bench and follows. Being summoned was never a good thing around here. Neil doesn’t know what this is about, considering that he had been lying low for the last few weeks since Andrew’s departure. 

The men in Coach’s needed no introduction. Tetsuji and Riko Moriyama. The Coach of the Ravens, and his nephew. Neil had seen Riko on magazines and in interviews. He was famous in the Exy world. Tetsuji had created Exy with Kayleigh Day, and Tetsuji coached her son Kevin, along with Riko, with the rest of the team. 

Five years ago, Neil had known Riko and Kevin; he had played with them in Castle Evermore before Nathan had butchered a man in front of them; that had been the day before Neil’s mother had ran with him. 

And here Neil was, the spitting image of his father without any dye or contacts to disguise his telling features. 

Tetsuji recognizes him instantly, Neil can tell by the minute widening of his eyes. Surprise flashes on the man’s face before he school’s himself. 

“Neil Doe,” Tetsuji seemed to be playing along, for now. He said the name slowly, testing it on his tongue. “You are quite the striker, Neil. You scored seven of the eleven goals the Hornets made tonight. In fact, since the year you have joined, your team has improved considerably. You are quite fast, and you take a hit well. I came tonight to judge for myself why your team was suddenly raising their stats.”

There is a pen and paper on Coach’s desk, and Neil’s hands shake when he reaches for them. 

“As I mentioned, Neil doesn’t speak.” Coach explains for him. Neil sees Tetsuji’s lips quirk into a smirk. 

_Thank you,_ Neil writes quickly. He wills his hands to steady. _But it wasn’t all me. We had a talented goalie but he left._

Neil didn’t want to draw attention to Andrew, but at the same time he wanted to downplay skill; maybe Tetsuji wouldn’t want him. 

“Do not try to fool me, I watched the entirety of tonight’s game. Soon you will have the skills to join the Ravens. Sooner than you think.” 

That sounded ominous. Neil recoils at the possessive tone of the man’s voice. 

“You have my attention, Mister Doe. I will be in touch.” 

Coach escorts neil to the rest of the team, to be escorted to the cafeteria. Neil is shaking with the adrenaline and the need to run. Tetsuji’s words rang over in Neil’s head as he walked; ‘ _Do not try to fool me… Soon you will have the skills to join the Ravens. Sooner than you think.’_

Was it too late for Neil to run? He was confident that he could get out of Westshore without being caught now. But how far would he be able to get before the Moriyamas caught him? Would he be running right into their hands? Or would he be safer here, in a government facility?

He distractedly eats his mashed potatoes with turkey noodle gravy. He doesn’t know what he should do. His mother would tell him to run. 

Neil waits alone in his room until well after the patrolling guards have fucked off to do whatever they do when they aren’t doing their jobs. He picks the lock with nimble fingers. There is nobody in the hall and he can bear the sleeping sounds of the other boys in their rooms. Neil knows to avoid the one rotating camera to the right. He is careful not to let his cheap tennis shoes make sound against the tile as he creeps up the hall. 

The easiest way out would probably be through the yard, the same way his mother had gotten in. Neil picks two more locked doors, and has to duck behind a chair in the hallway to avoid a guard down the hall. 

He almost makes it. The story of his life, it seemed. Close, but not quick enough. A guard rounds the corner of the hall Neil was walking down, and he yells. 

Neil jumps when he startles, and he turns. The guard is running after him, her voice sharp in his ear. Neil wants to run but he hears the footfalls of more guards along several of the other hallways. 

“God damnit, Doe. Ya sneaky little shit, what were you thinkin’?” 

Neil slumps in his defeat. He scrambles his brain trying to figure out another solution. At least this time when they lock him in solitary nobody touches him. 

Of course he can’t sleep the rest of the night. Neil is wired with nervous energy. The next morning, Neil is greeted with a surprise; Tetsuji is let into his room, dressed primly in a fresh suit, not a hair out of place. The door closed behind him, leaving them alone. 

“Nathaniel Wesninski. You look like your father. A big small for a striker, but of course you won’t be. We do not have a striker position open. You will be a backliner.” Tetsuji pauses. “Unless, of course, you would rather return to your father in Baltimore?” 

Neil can’t breathe. Tetsuji knew who he was, and he lay the evidence at Neil’s feet. He was threatening Neil with his worst nightmares. Everything his mother had done to protect him, all for nothing now. 

No. Not nothing. There had been Andrew, and kisses and promises. Westshore had not been a kind place, but it had been worth it. Andrew was worth it. 

“Your foux handicap will not be tolerated.” Tetsuji tells him in a cold voice. 

“No,” Neil’s voice crackles and breaks like dry leaves. He swallows and tries again. “No sir. Not my father, anything else.” 

“You will call me Master.” 

 

****** Andrew ******

 

The flight is fucking terrible. It’s stormy and the turbulence is making the plane shake; there are triplet toddlers a few rows down that are wailing. Aaron has his headphones in and Luther keeps trying to engage Andrew in conversation while Andrew just wants off of this fucking plane. 

Their flight is late to the layover in New Mexico and their connecting flight is also delayed due to the weather. Luther gives Andrew and Aaron ten dollars each for lunch so he doesn’t have to babysit them, and Aaron disappears while Andrew spends his money on candy and McDonald’s dollar menu. He goes outside and bums a cigarette from some girl. 

Later they meet up at the terminal again. Aaron smells like pot and too much body spray. Not that Andrew cares, he probably smells like cigarettes. Luther gives them both glares and launches into a lecture about something or other; Andrew isn’t listening, it doesn’t matter. Aaron rolls his eyes and says ‘yes, sir’ when prompted but slips on his headphones once the lecture is over. 

The second part of the trip is equally as nerve wracking, minus the screaming children. Instead, a couple is arguing about someone named Jade, and whether Jade is sleeping with Alex or Tory. Andrew thinks Jade is probably sleeping with Alex _and_ Tory. And he wishes the couple would shut the fuck up about it. 

Luther drops them off with Tilda, and stays for a half an hour to give a king who fed speech about family duties. There is a meatloaf in the oven but Tilda does not offer for her brother to stay for dinner. Not a tight family, then. 

The apartment is two bedroom, and the second bed barely fits. The walls are barren and the furniture worn. They share a dresser and closet, and the walls are so thin that Aaron and Andrew can hear when Tilda brings a man home. Andrew has stayed in worse, of course. The Fumeros had kept him in the garage. 

The first time that Andrew sees Tilda smack Aaron is after they get detention for fighting. Aaron and Andrew are both bruised from the fight, and they’re late to Tulsa’s crappy hamburger helper dinner. She’s already drunk when they get home and the dinner is now a solidified mush in the shape of the pot it cooked in. She yells about the boys being too much trouble, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Aaron tells her about the fight and detention, and she hits him. 

Andrew watches Aaron duck into his shoulders like a beaten dog tucking its tail. He hides in their bedroom for the rest of their evening, snorting crushed pills and drinking from the whiskey that they had stolen together. 

She hits him again a few days later for waking her when she was hungover and sleeping. She had been late for work and Aaron had dared to knock on her door to help, despite Andrew advising him not to. She smacks him again when they get in another fight, and again when she had worked late and the twins hadn’t cooked like they were supposed to when Tilda worked a late shift. They had been smoking cigarettes and joints at one of Aaron’s friends houses and had barely made it home before Tilda had. 

They spend a lot of time out of the apartment. They plan to sign up for Exy when the new season starts, and Aaron has some stoner friends that keep him high all the time, and the twins frequent the park and skatepark just to get out of the house. Andrew smokes on the roof and Aaron keeps him company, even though he doesn’t smoke cigarettes. Especially when Tilda brings a man back from the bar. Sometimes the twins sneak out of the apartment so they don’t have to listen to the sounds of sex, and they lock themselves in the laundry room on the bottom floor, and sleep in the chairs. 

Tilda hits Aaron again because she thinks he has been pilfering extra pills; more than she rationed to him, anyway. After dinner Aaron drinks and sulks in their room. 

“Don’t you get sick of being a punching bag?” 

The word martyr is on the tip of Andrew’s tongue, but that word is reserved for a certain idiot still locked up more than 2,000 miles away. 

“Don’t you get sick of being a dick?” Aaron gets snappier than usual after Tilda hits him. 

Not really, to be honest. It was a form of amusement for Andrew to cause trouble, but this is different from that. He isn’t sure if this protectiveness he feels for Aaron is the ‘brotherly love’ Luther keeps preaching about, or if Neil has made him soft, but Andrew doesn’t want Aaron to be hurt. Aaron is one of a handful of people that have ever wanted Andrew; Aaron had fought just as much Luther had to get Andrew here. Maybe that was why Andrew couldn’t stand the abuse Tilda was doling out so liberally. 

“So you’re happy being abused, as long as she gives you drugs to make up for it?” 

Aaron scoffs, and the noise grated on Andrew’s raw nerves. “That noise makes me violent,” he warns Aaron slowly. 

Aaron takes a long pull from the bottle and sets it on the nightstand between them. Andrew snags it and drinks. He gets drunk much more easily now that he’s out of Westshore. 

“It isn’t abuse. She’s just stressed.” Aaron crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. “She works a lot, and money is tight.”

“When you get sick of it, all you have to do is ask.” 

“What, like you can make her stop? Our options are either the streets or foster care until we’re eighteen. I think this is probably our best option. In two more years we’ll be legal and we can leave.”

“And then what?” Andrew asks. 

“I don’t know. Jobs, girlfriends, an apartment. The shit that normal people do, I guess.”

“She’s got you hooked on pills. What are you going to do when you can’t get your shit from her? Go to a dealer to get you hooked on something else? You’ll be just like her.” 

“Fuck you, I’m nothing like her!” Aaron is glaring at him. 

“You will be. So make a deal with me.”

“A deal. What kind of deal?”

“I’ll take care of Tilda and the drugs. All you have to do is stay. Don’t run away, don’t do anything. Just stay.” 

A clause that Andrew should have added to Neil’s deal. Andrew was learning. 

“As if I have anywhere else to go,” Aaron scoffs half heartedly. “But okay. Get mom to stop, and I’ll quit the pills and everything else.” 

They drink on it, until they’re both drunk and tired. After that, Andrew keeps Tilda away when he can, but he can’t be around constantly. He warns her not to hit Aaron and she forgets so conveniently. But Andrew had promised his brother than he would keep Aaron safe from her, and he was failing. He doesn’t want to fail again, to break another promise; not like he had with Neil, who had gotten tired of waiting and had tried to put a permanent end to himself. And in the end, Neil had still taken care of his own problems. He won't risk it with Aaron, won’t make the same mistake twice. Andrew knows he has to act quickly, and he has to be smart about it. 

It isn’t the best plan, Andrew knows. But it’s a boring plan, and that’s what he wants.Tilda’s car is a piece of shit. She doesn’t have the money to pay for Aaron or Andrew to go to Driver’s Ed and get a license but sometimes when she’s drunk she sends one of them out for errands. It’s a piece of shit Honda with a loose steering column and brakes that squeal. The windshield is cracked and pitted and the headlights are foggy and in desperate need of a polish. 

He makes an opportunity, bribing Aaron to sit in detention for him in return for two weeks of homework. He pretends to be Aaron because Tilda refuses to be alone with Andrew, who won’t bow to her heavy hand. Andrew let’s her hit him a few times, raising his hands over his face and crouching down like Aaron does. She’s still tipsy from drinking her weekend away and she’s on the outter lane of a sharp curve when Andrew reaches over and yanks the steering wheel. He has his own seat belt on but Tilda doesn’t. Her face is pale and shocked just a split second before the car rolls and Andrew’s head hits the window. That’s all Andrew remembers. 

When he wakes up from the hospital, Tilda is dead and Aaron is shooting suspicious glares his way. Well. Andrew had promised to take care of the problem. Aaron has no right to look at him like this. 

But he stays. After the funeral, after Nicky arrives and Luther tries to bully his way into the twin’s custody, Aaron stays. And to Andrew’s surprise, so does Nicky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, this is not the end!! Go check out Hey, Trouble. ;)


End file.
